The Hidden Journal

Some truths don’t want to be spoken.
They live best in the quiet,
where they can stretch and breathe
without the weight of being understood.

───

I used to think everything needed to be shared
to be real.
That healing meant exposure —
that silence was just another kind of fear.
But now I see there’s holiness in what stays unspoken.
Some things are meant to be held close,
to ripen in their own dark.

───

There are parts of me no one knows.
Not because they’re shameful,
but because they’re still becoming.
They’re the soft roots growing beneath the surface,
the ones that don’t need sunlight yet.

───

Every time I write,
I show a little more of what I’ve carried —
but never all of it.
There are corners of me that stay dim,
not as secrets,
but as sanctuaries.

───

Maybe that’s the balance —
to tell the truth,
but keep something sacred.
To let the world see your reflection,
without giving away your whole sky.

— Desiree