The Hidden Journal

The sky doesn’t apologize for breaking open.
It rains, it rages, it empties —
and then, it clears.

───

I used to fear that kind of release.
The crying, the chaos,
the parts of me that didn’t know how to stay composed.
But maybe storms aren’t destruction.
Maybe they’re cleansing.

───

After the storm,
everything smells like beginning.
The air tastes clean,
the world feels softer around the edges.
Even my thoughts move slower,
like they’re afraid to disturb the peace that’s left behind.

───

I walk differently now.
Not because I’ve changed completely,
but because I finally stopped running from the weather inside me.

───

The calm after isn’t silence —
it’s understanding.
It’s gratitude.
It’s the sound of my own breath,
steady, unafraid,
ready to start again.

— Desiree