The Hidden Journal

I forgot how to stand in light without flinching.
For a while, every brightness felt like a spotlight,
every warmth, a warning.
I didn’t trust what didn’t hurt.

───

But healing has a way of softening the edges of fear.
Little by little, I’ve started to lean toward the glow —
the way flowers do
without asking if they deserve it.

───

The sun doesn’t ask questions.
It just shines.
It lands on the broken and the blooming the same.
And somewhere in that sameness,
I started to breathe easier again.

───

Joy isn’t loud for me yet.
It’s quiet —
a steady hum in the chest,
a warmth that doesn’t demand proof.

───

I’m still learning how to hold it
without waiting for the next storm.
But maybe that’s the point —
to let the light touch me
even if I’m still trembling.

— Desiree