The Hidden Journal

Light forgives everything it touches.
It doesn’t ask why.
It doesn’t take sides.
It just enters —
and in doing so,
it makes even the broken things shimmer.

───

I used to think forgiveness had to be spoken,
earned,
explained.
But light never waits for permission.
It forgives by seeing clearly —
and choosing to stay anyway.

───

It moves across scars without shame.
Across walls I built too high.
Across versions of me
that only knew how to protect.

───

What light forgives
is not the past itself,
but the part of me that believed I had to hide from it.

───

It says, You’re still here.
And somehow, that’s enough.

───

Forgiveness, I’ve learned,
isn’t about forgetting —
it’s about returning to what’s worth saving
and finding that it was me, all along.

───

— Desiree