March 3
I didn't cry today.
Maybe that's a win.
Or maybe I've just accepted my place in the food chain.
Some people scream, some people study—and some of us are just… quiet animals, waiting for the cage door to break.
I kept thinking about laws today.
Not the rules they teach in textbooks, but the real ones.
The unspoken crap people live by.
Like:
If you're soft, they'll press harder.
If you don't speak, they'll talk over you.
If you stay too long, they'll ask why you're still here.
I realized people don't hate you for being bad.
They hate you for being weak.
Weakness makes them uncomfortable. Like holding up a cracked mirror and saying, "Hey, this could be you too."
And the law?
The actual legal system?
It's just a paperwork version of whoever's louder and richer.
We've been in a property fight for years—my dad, his brother, the land that's ours.
Court literally said it's ours.
But some woman named Shakuntla still manages to block us with "stay orders."
Stay orders.
Legal way to say "yeah it's yours but no you can't touch it."
Like telling a starving kid the food's his, then padlocking the fridge.
Sometimes I imagine getting a job.
Like a real one.
Not some dream job with espresso and beanbags, but something that just pays enough to get me out.
I've planned the whole thing in my head.
Step by step:
Score high in finals.
Grab an internship.
Use that to get a job.
Save.
Leave.
Rent a small room. Doesn't need to be fancy.
Just mine.
Somewhere quiet.
No screaming. No judgments.
Just walls that don't talk back.
I'll hang a board outside the door:
"Here lives a man who finally shut the world out."
And I'll sit in my broken chair, drink cheap tea, and feel rich.
Funny thing?
None of this exists yet.
But thinking about it gave me more peace than anything else today.
Mom yelled again today.
But her voice barely reached my ears.
I was too busy thinking about job portals and rental prices.
Her words felt like background static—like a radio between stations.
"You don't even look at me when I talk!"
She's right.
Because I've already started looking beyond her.
I don't care if people call me antisocial, weird, a shut-in.
They say that like it's an insult.
To me, it's a strategy.
Let them keep talking.
I'm listening to something else now.
A plan.
A way out.
A quiet kind of freedom.
Tomorrow, I'll study more.
Because every word I read is one brick laid in the wall between me and this house.
And one day, I'll climb it.
– M