The Hidden Journal

I used to live in reflection —
always looking back,
always waiting for proof
that I’d made it through.

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But lately, I find myself here —
in the middle of a morning,
in the soft hum of ordinary things,
seeing color again
and realizing it was never gone.

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Healing isn’t behind me.
It’s woven into this moment —
in the light on my skin,
the sound of my breath,
the way I no longer brace for impact
when life reaches out to touch me.

───

The color of now isn’t loud.
It’s gentle,
patient,
unafraid to exist without an audience.

───

I used to think beauty had to sparkle.
Now I know it can hum quietly
and still fill a room.

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This is what it means to be alive again —
to see what’s right here.

───

I finally stop looking away.

───

— Desiree