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( FAYE )

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( FAYE )




my heart races as i search frantically through the room, tossing aside pillows and rifling through drawers.

the gravity of panic settles into my chest, its oppressive weight constricting around my heart with a relentless grip.

every flicker of hope is snuffed out as the seconds tick by, and the realization of loss cuts through me like a shard of glass.










this journal isn't just a collection of words; it's my sanctuary. the place where my thoughts find peace, where the chaos in my mind finds order.

it's a compendium of my vulnerabilities, fears, and dreams, a silent confidant that now seems to mock me with its absence.










desperation pushes me to retrace my steps, revisiting every place that i've been yesterday.

i comb through the areas in the house that i frequent, retracing the contours of my life in hopes of stumbling upon that significant notebook.

the fear of someone else, specifically sadie, discovering my unfiltered words and vulnerability heightens my anxiety.










as the minutes turn into hours, my panic transforms into a desperate plea to the universe.

not knowing what else to do, i go to sadie.

"i can't find my journal" my breaths are quick, my eyes bearing the weight of worry.

she furrows her brows, glancing up at me from the sofa. "are you sure? did you look for it?"

i exhale in frustration. "ofcourse i looked for it! i can't find it, it's nowhere" my voice trembles slightly.

sadie raises her brows. "calm down, faye. it's just a journal... what's the big deal?"

my anxiety intensifies, a torrent of emotions cascading through me.

her nonchalance wasn't making this easier.

"it's more than just a journal, sades" i sigh.

"it's like... a part of me. i know that sounds extremely stupid but it's true"

my attempt at conveying the depth of my attachment fails, an impatient sigh escaping the redheads lips. "come on, faye"

"you're making this into a way bigger deal than it is. it's just some writings, start a new one"










the dismissal cuts through my vulnerability, leaving me feeling unheard and invalidated.

nonetheless, i cling onto the hope that somehow, my journal will find its way back to me.

𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐘 | sadie sinkOù les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant