The Hidden Journal

No one ever told me light could be heavy.
That joy could settle deep in the chest
like truth.
That peace could have its own kind of gravity.

───

For a long time, I thought healing would lift me —
float me above the ache.
But it didn’t.
It grounded me instead,
rooted me in everything real.

───

The weight of light
isn’t a burden.
It’s the presence of what’s finally true —
what’s survived,
what’s stayed.

───

It’s the sound of my breath
when I stop rushing.
It’s the pulse that hums
when I stand in the middle of my life
and realize I don’t want to escape anymore.

───

Light doesn’t just rise —
it rests.
And maybe that’s what peace really is:
the moment you learn
to hold brightness
without needing to let it go.

───

— Desiree