My brain was full.
But it wasn't the productive kind. It was the kind where your brain is filled with only noise and nothing makes sense. This time I was staring at a page that stopped making sense to me twenty minutes ago.
Finally, I stopped deceiving myself and slammed my laptop shut.
I saw the girl beside me in the library flinch and cut me a weird look. She smelled of garlic. I gently mouthed sorry and grabbed my bag. I needed air, time out, or even something I couldn't name yet. I just couldn't tell which one but I was very sure I just needed to be out of that library at that moment.
Outside, Sunderland received me with its usual coldness. The kind that doesn't ask permission before it finds your skin. I grabbed my coat and tried to hide my skin under it. The sky was grey. The street was almost empty. I could hear the sound of my own boots on the wet pavement.
I walked without direction.
My phone buzzed. I checked, and it was a WhatsApp message, three unread messages from home. I shoved it back into my pocket. Not now. I wasn't sure if I could carry any more right now. My brain hurt and was already too heavy.
I had been walking for ten minutes when I realized I was walking in the direction of my church. I could see it from a distance. Old built with stone walls dark with age, narrow windows, a wooden door so thick it looked like it had survived several lifetimes. A small board stood outside. The words were simple.
All are welcome to come in and rest.
I stopped and stared at the door. I felt a strong urge to step in and another to just walk home.
I stood there looking left and right and at the door again.
It wasn't Sunday, so I was sure I wasn't in the mood for anything that required faith or prayers. I just wanted somewhere to clear my head.
Finally, I pushed the door.
I was hit first with the silence. Peaceful. Undisturbed. Like it had been sitting there for centuries waiting for someone who needed it. The smell was of incense and candle wax. Thin pale light from the pulpit chandelier fell through narrow windows onto wooden pews in the front.
The church was empty.
I walked straight to the first pew and sat down doing nothing. Just enjoying the peace from the quietness. No performance for a city that didn't even know my name. Just me. And the silence. And the light shining on me.
Slowly, I felt something in my chest that had been there for weeks slowly melt away.
Homesickness. The loneliness of Sunday mornings in a small apartment. The academic pressure whispered daily that I didn't belong here. The exhaustion of being brave without a break.
I felt it all slipping away. Somehow, at that moment, I found the courage to stop arguing.
And slowly, the more I sat there, the quieter and more peaceful it got.
Hours later, I stood up to leave. The sunlight through the windows had shifted. I must have spent so much time inside.
I walked outside to the cold again. The sky had darkened. My assignment was still due. The messages from home were still unread.
But I walked differently. Like someone who had put something heavy down and decided not to pick it up again - Peace.
[source](https://pixabay.com/photos/church-christianity-religion-5400318/)
