Quiet Chaos: Journal Entries from a Nurse With a Lot on Her Mind vol.3


Entry 11: The One Who Doesn’t Know

It’s strange how someone can leave a mark,
without ever realizing they have.

They don’t need to know.
I have no plan to explain it.
No need to turn it into something it isn’t.

It’s not love. Not even longing.
Just a kind of presence
that lingers longer than expected.

There’s no story here.
Just a quiet feeling that surprises me
by how real it feels.

And now, with this small gesture—
a card, some sweets, nothing dramatic—
I wonder what it will feel like
to finally place it in someone else’s hands.

It won’t mean anything to them.
But to me?
It’s the stillest kind of bravery I’ve known.


Entry 12: The Hand-Off

It’s folded. Sealed. Tucked neatly beside something sweet.
A small moment, waiting for the right one.

I keep thinking about the hand-off.
The seconds before, when my pulse will rise.
The seconds after, when I’ll try not to look back.

It’s just a thank-you.
That’s all it says.
But everything unspoken is folded into the space between the words.

And the moment it leaves my hand,
I’ll still carry it.

Not the gift—
but the feeling of having given it
without needing it to land any certain way.

That’s the part I’m holding close:
not the response,
but the release.


Entry 13: The Line I Can’t Let Myself Cross

I keep telling myself:
This isn’t supposed to go further.
Not like that.

There’s a line, and I see it.
I’ve walked beside it.
I’ve never stepped over.

It’s not about romance.
It never was.
But some part of me keeps stirring—
not in longing,
but in some tangled form of attachment
I didn’t expect.

So I remind myself:
Be grateful. Be grounded.
Feel the flutter, then let it go.

Because this is something I’m not supposed to keep.
Not in that way.
And I know that.

Still…
knowing doesn’t always mean feeling less.


Entry 14: The Moment Before the Moment

It’s the anticipation that gets me.

The hours before.
The getting ready.
The quiet rehearsals in my head.

That’s where everything happens.
That’s when the heartbeat quickens.
When I imagine what might be said,
how I might smile,
what I might forget to say.

But then the moment comes—
and I’m fine.
Almost too fine.
Composed in a way I didn’t expect.
Maybe because I’ve already lived the moment
a hundred different ways before it even begins.

Or maybe because I hold my breath through it
and only notice I’ve been holding it
once I walk away.

Entry 15: The Shift

Something’s changed.

It’s no longer panic.
No longer spiraling what-ifs.
It’s quieter now. More grounded.
But heavier.

Because this isn’t imagined.
This isn’t exaggerated.
This is real.
And I’m finally starting to let that sink in.

I don’t want things to get worse.
But I know they might.

There’s a weight on my neck I can’t quite ignore.
A curve turned the wrong way.
A body quietly asking for more attention than I’ve been willing to give it.

I’m not spiralling.
I’m watching.
And that’s its own kind of ache.

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