My Safe Haven Isn’t a Person, It’s Writing
When it comes to having a safe haven, many people immediately think of a person, someone they can run to, talk to, cry with, or simply sit beside in silence. And honestly, that’s beautiful. Having a human safe space is a gift.
But for someone like me? My safe haven has never really been a person.
Now before you jump to conclusions and label me an introvert which people love doing, by the way. Let me defend myself 😅. I wouldn’t exactly call myself an introvert. I simply love my privacy. There’s a difference. Okay... maybe a tiny difference 😂.
Truth be told, I’m not always the best with people, and maybe that’s part of the reason. Human beings are beautifully complex, but they can also be exhausting. People judge, misunderstand, gossip, interrupt, or sometimes simply fail to understand what you’re trying to say.
Writing, on the other hand, does none of that.
Words don’t judge me.
My ink doesn’t gossip.
My writing pad doesn’t get tired of my endless rants.
It doesn’t roll its eyes when I complain for the hundredth time about the same thing.
It simply listens.
Naturally, I’m that one person who, whenever I’m going through any kind of emotional discomfort, frustration, stress, or even excitement, the very first thing that crosses my mind is: “Let me write this down.”
Someone once said to me, “You claim you’re not an introvert, but you write down everything even the dog that barked at you on your way back from school.”
And honestly? Fair enough 😂.
But would you really blame me?
Because there’s something magical that happens whenever I pick up my pen. It’s almost as if the stress of the day starts oozing out of my body and into the paper. The words begin to flow, one after another, effortlessly like they had been waiting for me to finally let them out.
And then something beautiful happens.
The world starts to fade into the background.
The noise becomes distant.
The pressure eases.
The thoughts that once felt heavy suddenly become lighter.
And for that moment, it’s just me and my words.
No expectations.
No explanations.
No pretending.
Just honesty in its purest form.
For some people, healing comes through conversations. They need a friend, a phone call, a shoulder to lean on. And that’s perfectly okay. We all process life differently.
But for me? Healing comes through writing.
Writing is where I make sense of my chaos. It’s where I untangle emotions I can’t explain out loud. It’s where I meet the most honest version of myself, the one without filters, without fear, without performance.
Writing doesn’t just help me express myself; it helps me understand myself.
So no, my safe haven isn’t a person.
It’s not a place either.
It’s the quiet companionship of ink and paper.
It’s the comfort of words that never interrupt.
It’s the freedom of expression without judgment.
And maybe that says a lot about me. Maybe it doesn’t.
But one thing is certain, when life becomes overwhelming and the world gets too loud, Eugenia doesn’t run to people first.
She reaches for her pen.
And that is who I am.
I’M EUGENIA.
