The Diary of Hoodie Girl

Dear Diary... A 19  year old came to say hi today,  She walked into the room quietly. She didn’t smile, didn’t rush to hug me like she once would. She just looked around like she didn’t know if she was welcome here anymore. And then, with this almost childlike confusion, she asked, "So… how many friends do we have now?" I knew why she asked. Back then, the more people who liked her, the more she felt she mattered.  I put my phone down gently something I didn’t do for her often enough. I turned to look at her, really look at her, and said softly, "We still have the ones that matter. The ones who saw us then, and stayed."  She didn’t smile. She blinked. Slowly.  And then it slipped out, almost too quiet to catch: "Are we… losing our spark?" That broke me. Because I knew exactly what she meant. That girl used to burn so brightly, her laughter filled whole rooms. She believed in forever friendships and being enough just as she was. And here I am—six years late...

Dear Diary, I once thought growing up meant roaring. That personal growth came with loud declarations and “boss babe” energy. But real self-growth? It often whispers. Sometimes, it wears hoodies and writes in diaries under the stars. This is my soft girl version of becoming. A quiet confidence story wrapped in stumbles, healing, and hope. These are my 24 life lessons from 24 years, lessons I didn’t Google, just lived. If you’re looking for a relatable blog on imposter syndrome, soft strength, or how to survive your twenties... welcome. You're not alone. 1. I don’t have to be fierce to be strong. Softness  is strength in disguise—one that doesn’t need to shout. 2. Maybe it’s imposter syndrome… and maybe it’s lying.  When everyone tells you how to succeed, but it only makes you want to retreat, yep, it’s real. 3. Pressure can paralyze. Especially  the invisible kind. Overcoming fear of failure is still a work in progress 4. Failure isn’t the opposite of success.  It ’s...

  Dear Diary... I know I can do it. I know the power is in me to conquer anything I set my mind to. But maybe… just maybe, this is what they call imposter syndrome. Because sometimes, it’s not failure I’m afraid of  it’s being seen trying . It’s the weight of people believing in me so loudly that I start to shrink quietly. The more they say, “Just do it,” the more I feel like disappearing. Not out of rebellion, but out of fear that I’ll disappoint them. Or myself. It’s that invisible pressure again, coming from nowhere and yet sitting everywhere. I overthink no surprise there  and my mind runs in loops: Am I ready? Will I break it? Am I even meant for this? And still, here I am. Aware of my potential. Afraid of my power. Frozen by the noise, even when the loudest voice is my own. To myself, I’m sorry, I'm sorry for the times I doubted you, silenced you, made you feel like you had to prove something. I know now: You don’t have to be fierce to be strong.You don’t have to be...

 Dear Diary… If being a parent had a definition, it wouldn’t just be about giving birth or sharing DNA. A parent is someone who shows up. Someone who tries, even when they don’t have all the answers. Someone who keeps choosing you, even when life makes it hard. We grow up thinking our parents know everything, that they have life figured out. But the truth? They’re just people. People with their own childhood wounds, their own struggles, their own fears. And then, one day, they’re handed a newborn and expected to be perfect. No manual, no warning, just them, figuring it out as they go. Before they were Mum and Dad, they were just two people trying to balance love, life, and themselves. A woman learning how to be strong but soft, nurturing but independent. A man trying to unlearn the world’s ideas about masculinity while figuring out how to show up emotionally. Then suddenly, they have a tiny human looking up at them, expecting them to just know how to be parents. And then another co...

Dear Diary… I've sat and thought (probably too much) about what love should feel like. But no matter how hard I try, I still can't put it into one perfect definition. So, as always, I’ll just say it plainly. Love, to me, is a warm blanket or a hoodie, the kind you can always count on. It’s there when you need it. Unlike the exes that lightning is yet to strike, real love doesn’t twist reality. If anything, it makes things clearer, especially the things I didn’t see before. Like how I’ve hurt people I love. How I’m not as perfect as I once thought. But somehow, love stays. Love knows I can handle things on my own but still calls it a we problem, reminding me I don’t have to. Love makes me a priority, even when it’s inconvenient. Love doesn’t just say, it shows. Love isn’t easy, but there’s a kind of peace in knowing that even in the hard moments, there’s someone choosing to stay. And I think that’s my favorite part, the staying. The quiet moments that say, ' Y ou’re safe now...

  Dear Diary… Breakups suck. But if there’s one thing that gets me through, it’s Thank U, Next by Ariana Grande. That chorus? Hits every time. She lists everything she learned from her past relationships, and honestly? Same. I've had my fair share of heartbreak. Okay, two to be exact. But the lessons? So many. So, to all the boys I’ve loved, thank you. Thank you for being inconsistent. I learned to show up for myself when you wouldn’t. Thank you for the gaslighting. I learned to trust myself and not let anyone mess with my reality. Thank you for making me panic. I found new ways to calm myself down. Thank you for not being there when I needed you. It made me appreciate the people who actually are. Thank you for putting me through unnecessary drama. I learned I can handle more than I thought. Thank you for being irresponsible. I learned how to take care of things myself. Thank you for being disrespectful. It made me more aware of how I treat others and listen when I'm told I...

Dear Diary… The good old writer’s block, where you want to write words but they somehow only feel the need to stay comfortably in your head. For the past few days, I’ve experienced writer’s block, absolutely nothing coming through. It’s a painful experience. Some would say, "You need to declutter your mind, find something engaging, or do something you love aside writing and you’ll get your words back." But alas, it doesn’t work that way sometimes. Sometimes you just sit, waiting for the words to come out, waiting patiently for sentences to form, but then there’s nothing. Then the miserable feelings begin. Nothing feels right anymore. A deep, dark hole, that’s what you feel you’re in. I know it wouldn’t last forever, but in those moments, it feels like it might. And in that stillness, I realize something, maybe writer’s block is not the enemy. Maybe it’s just a pause, a chance to let my mind rest before the floodgates open again. Maybe it's giving me the opportunity to tr...

Dear Diary… If there’s one prayer I’ve whispered more times than I can count, it’s the “I don’t know” prayer. ‘I don’t know how this is going to happen. I don’t know how You’re going to save me. I don’t even know my next step… but I trust You’ People always talk about trusting God, but let’s be real. Most of the time, we only “trust” when we already have some sort of backup plan. We pray about something, but deep down, it’s because we kind of know how it’s going to work out. It’s like we’ve already planned it all out and then added God in, thinking, ‘Well, now that God’s in on it, it’s bound to work’. Honestly, sometimes it feels like I’m trying to convince God to do it my way. But what about when it doesn’t work out? What about when everything you thought was certain starts crumbling? When all your plans fall apart and you’re just… stuck. What then? As someone who overthinks everything, I’ve learned to just let it be when it comes to God. And trust me, that’s hard. It doesn’t mean I...

  Dear Diary... How do I even begin to explain what anxiety feels like? On most days, it’s like a silent sea, calm on the surface but with chaos brewing underneath. Inside, it’s all battles and noise. Then there are those other days. The ones where it feels like my body’s alarm system is on overdrive, screaming at full blast for no reason I can see. My heart starts pounding like it’s running a marathon I didn’t sign up for, and suddenly, I can’t breathe right. It’s like my body forgot how to do something as basic as breathing. My brain, decides this must mean danger, even though there’s nothing wrong. I look around, trying to find the threat, but there’s nothing. Nothing except this overwhelming feeling that something terrible is about to happen. And yet, my body doesn’t seem to care that I’m actually safe. It’s exhausting, confusing, and terrifying all at once. All I want in those moments is a way out, a clear exit sign, anything to stop feeling this way. “It’ll pass,” I tell myse...

Dear Diary... Life really is unpredictably unpredictable, isn’t it? It doesn’t care who I am, where I’m coming from, or what I’m doing right now. It just keeps moving, like a river that doesn’t stop for anything. One moment, I could be talking to a stranger, and the next? They might turn out to be the soulmate I didn’t even know I was waiting for. But when things go wrong, like a breakup, a bad day, or, God forbid, losing someone I love, life slows to a crawl. Time drags, and I’m forced to sit with all the pain. I’ve tried ignoring it, drowning it out, or pretending it’s not there, but nope. Life doesn’t let me off the hook. It’s like it’s saying, “You’ll sit with this until you learn something. If you don’t, I’ll just keep bringing it back.” Honestly, it’s exhausting. And then there are the happy moments, the ones I should enjoy. But do I? Nope. My brain decides to overanalyze every single detail. Is this moment too good to be true? What if it doesn’t last? What if something goes wron...

Dear Diary ... Unlike those pink, heart-shaped, padlocked diaries people hide under their floorboards, I’m starting one of my own. Do I really need this? Probably. Overthinking doesn’t leave much room for clarity, so maybe writing it all down will help. I could call it a blog, but let’s be honest—it’s more about me working through my thoughts than anything else. That’s okay, right? Here’s the plan: I’ll write about my thoughts, share personal stories, and create a safe space for anyone reading. I hope someone out there reads this and thinks, “I went through this too. I’m not a weirdo for feeling like this.” And maybe I’ll remind myself of that as well. I’ll share fun memories, not-so-fun ones, and all the random nonsense in between. Life doesn’t always have to be so serious, even when serious things are happening. Sometimes nonsense really does make the most sense. If this diary helps me untangle my thoughts and brings comfort to someone else, that’s enough. Writing feels like putting ...