The Hidden Journal

Some days I feel complete.
Other days, I can still hear the hammering —
quiet, persistent,
somewhere deep in the walls of me.

───

I’ve built this house slowly,
room by room,
out of moments I once wanted to forget.
Each scar became a brick.
Each breath, a window.
Each goodbye, a door that taught me how to open again.

───

There’s no blueprint for becoming.
I’m learning as I go —
how to make space without collapsing,
how to decorate with grace instead of guilt.

───

The foundation isn’t perfect,
but it holds.
And that’s more than I could say before.

───

I don’t need to finish this house to live in it.
I just need to keep sweeping the dust,
lighting candles in the dark corners,
and leaving the front door cracked
for whoever love sends next —
including myself.

───

— Desiree