Notebook by Alina Fits

My name is Jane Rae,

and if you want to know me, start with my notebook. It’s worn, its leather cover cracked and soft, pages filled with a messy constellation of thoughts, sketches, and half-finished ideas. It’s my refuge and my reflection — a map of my mind, where every inked word is a step toward understanding myself.

I grew up in a small town, in a house filled with books and my parents’ voices — both teachers, both certain of their place in the world. My father taught me wonder through words, my mother through history. And then there’s Arthur, my younger brother — my storm and my anchor.

When the world gets too loud, when my own thoughts press too heavily against my chest, I retreat into my notebook. It holds my dreams — to create something meaningful, something that leaves a mark. A book, maybe, or a project that helps people. I write to make sense of the noise, to shape it into something beautiful.

I’m not always sure I succeed. Perfection is a cruel master, and doubt is its shadow. Even when I achieve something, I hear the whispers of “not-enough”. I wanted to study abroad once — to chase the horizon and learn in places where the air hums with possibility — but fear kept me grounded. Fear of leaving my family, of losing my anchor. My father understands this without words. He’s my guiding star, his steady wisdom lighting my way. My mother and I clash like wind and fire. Her expectations sometimes too heavy, my rebellion too quiet. And Arthur is the moon, pulling at my tides, shaping me in ways I don’t always see.

In the morning, I run. The rhythm of my steps is a heartbeat against the earth, the sunrise my silent companion. Breakfast is a book, a podcast is voices less demanding than the real world’s clamor. By day, I work. By night, I retreat into the solace of pen and paper.

And through it all, my notebook waits — patient and unyielding. It knows my secrets, my regrets, my hopes. It holds the story I’m still learning to write: the story of a girl trying to leave her mark on the world, even when she’s afraid she never will.