The Hidden Journal

Silence used to scare me.
It felt like absence,
like being unseen.
But somewhere along the way,
it began to speak.

───

It doesn’t use words —
it uses space.
The way light filters through an open curtain.
The way breath pauses between truths.
The way stillness can hold meaning
without ever asking for sound.

───

There’s a shape to silence.
It curves around grief,
cradles peace,
makes room for what hasn’t been said yet.

───

It’s in the moments after love,
after loss,
after laughter fades —
the breath that stays
when everything else has gone quiet.

───

I used to fill every silence
with proof that I was still here.
Now, I let it fill me instead.
Because maybe silence
was never empty —
it was listening.

───

— Desiree