Hiraeth

Accepting Reality

When I woke up in the already familiar room, fresh air was hitting me from the open window. The light hitting my face as soon as I woke up didn't bother me as much anymore. As I looked around, I saw the familiar face of my roommate, Elena Gilbert. After yesterday, I thought that maybe I was dreaming or hallucinating, but now, after waking up for the third time in this room, I wasn't so sure. What was I about to say? Oh, yeah—Elena Gilbert. After telling her that my father used to work with her father, we talked some more. She mentioned being a cheerleader and her friends, and all the information she shared matched the show, which led me to believe this wasn't just a massive coincidence. I didn't know how to feel at this moment—was I scared because I was in a different world without my friends or my dad, people I knew and missed, or was I excited because I was now part of a show I really loved and could interact with the main character?

"Good morning." Elena's soft voice jolted me from my thoughts. I realized I had been sitting and staring at one spot for at least a few minutes. Elena wasn't in her bed anymore. Instead, she was sitting in a chair by the window, writing something—probably her diary. "Are you feeling alright? You've been staring for a while."

"Oh, umm, sorry about that. Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking," I said, trying to sound casual. Elena's gaze lingered on me, and for a moment, it seemed like she was trying to gauge my sincerity. "So, what are you writing?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from my awkward moment.

"I'm writing in a diary. It helps me collect my thoughts and make sense of everything that's happening. It's a good way to express feelings without worrying about being judged," she explained, her voice soft but steady.

"And does it help you?" I questioned.

"It does, actually. My mom gave me my first journal when I was ten. I've been writing ever since. It's my way of coping," she said, her eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and warmth.

"So, what was she like, if you don't mind me asking?" I dared to ask, unsure if it was too soon.

Elena paused for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "She was a very warm person. She always took care of me and Jeremy, and she had this incredible sense of humor. She used to play pranks on my dad all the time," she said, looking down slightly, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

"She sounds like a really good mom," I said, trying to offer comfort, though I wasn't sure how effective I was.

"She was," Elena smiled gently. "You're actually the first person who's asked me about her. Most people are too afraid to bring her up, thinking it might upset me. So, thank you. It helps to talk to someone other than my diary," she said with a soft chuckle. "And what about your mother? If you don't mind sharing?"

"I don't know her. She left my dad when I was born, and he never told me why," I blurted out, feeling an unfamiliar surge of anger. I glanced at my hands, then back at Elena, who looked genuinely sympathetic. "It's fine, though. I never knew her anyway," I said, trying to shake off the anger and focus on the present.