The Hidden Journal

Healing doesn’t end with a flourish.
It begins again —
slowly,
softly,
like petals opening to a light they’ve finally learned to trust.

───

The slow bloom doesn’t rush.
It knows that roots come first,
that beauty means nothing
without depth.

───

I’ve stopped trying to grow overnight.
Now I let the days unfold me
in their own rhythm —
a little more open,
a little more brave,
a little more here.

───

The slow bloom teaches patience.
It whispers that not all progress can be seen,
that some of the most important changes
happen quietly beneath the surface.

───

And when I finally notice the color returning,
it’s not dramatic.
It’s real.
It’s me,
becoming again,
without apology.

───

— Desiree