The Hidden Journal

---

There’s a moment between the noise and the silence —
a soft hinge, like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

That’s where I live most days.
Not in the chaos, and not in the calm,
but somewhere between them —
where thoughts haven’t hardened into words yet.

The quiet isn’t empty; it’s alive.
It hums with all the things I’m not ready to say.
It carries memory, ache, and the small pulse of hope.

Sometimes it feels like waiting.
Other times, it feels like peace.
But always, it feels like me.

This is where the writing begins —
not with answers,
but with the courage to sit inside the quiet
and let it teach me how to listen again.

— Desiree