The world gets so loud sometimes. Not just with the noise of the city, but with the noise of expectations. My final year of school, university applications, my friends’ constant buzzing group chats–it all piles up until my own thoughts feel like a tangled mess of wires. So today, I untangled myself. I told everyone I was busy, shoved my phone deep into my pocket, and went for a walk. Alone.The park near my house is my sanctuary. The moment I stepped onto the gravel path, the world shifted. The air smelled of damp earth and the sweet, heavy scent of blooming lilacs. It’s May, and everything is impossibly green and alive. I felt like I was breathing properly for the first time all week.I walked without a destination. My hands were free, no one to link arms with, no phone to stare at. At first, the silence in my own head was strange, almost uncomfortable. But then, I started to listen. I heard the crunch of my own sneakers on the gravel, a sound usually drowned out by chatter. I heard the intricate conversation of birds–not just a generic "tweet," but a whole symphony of chirps, whistles, and calls. A squirrel scolded me from an oak tree, and I actually stopped to watch its frantic little movements, something I’d normally just walk past.I found my favorite bench, the one tucked away by the old pond, half in the sun, half in the shade. I sat down and just… was. I watched the sunlight filtering through the new leaves, creating a dancing pattern of light and shadow on the ground. I saw an elderly couple walking slowly, hand in hand, not saying a word. They didn’t need to. I saw a little girl, maybe five years old, completely entranced by a dandelion, her whole world contained in that fuzzy yellow.And in that quiet observation, my own thoughts began to untangle. The anxiety about my exams softened its edges. The indecision about my future didn’t feel so heavy. It was as if by being alone, by not having to perform or explain myself to anyone, I could finally hear my own voice.This isn’t loneliness. Loneliness aches. This was… fullness. It was a peaceful, quiet completeness. For an hour, I wasn’t a student, a , or a friend. I was just Lesya. A girl on a bench, under a vast sky, feeling the sun on her skin and the slow, steady beat of her own heart.I finally stood up to leave when the sun started to dip lower, casting long, golden shadows. As I walked back home, the world felt the same, but I was different. The noise was still there, waiting for me, I’m sure. But now, I have this quiet, sunny space inside me. And I know I can return to it anytime I want, just by taking a walk alone.