Journal Entry

4:27 AM

I think I drifted off for a minute… somewhere between punching the pillow, flipping it over, and turning the fan up like that was going to solve anything.

I stood where the sea breaks open tonight, waiting for the lighthouse to blink its one-eyed warning. The waves were restless. They sounded almost like riddles, the kind that feel familiar but refuse to explain themselves.

The sky cracked open in long bands of cloud and light, like a promise someone forgot to keep.

Sleep didn’t come. Only the tide.

Every gust of wind seemed to carry fragments of something—salt-stained letters, half-remembered lullabies, the echo of footsteps that never quite reached the shore.

The rocks beneath my feet whispered in languages older than storms. Above me the lighthouse pulsed slowly, like a tired heartbeat.

I realized I wasn’t lost. Not really.

Just suspended for a while—somewhere between dusk and drowning, between myth and morning.