Tattered Journals, Treasured Words

I found one of my old journals in a dusty box last week. The cover’s torn, the pages curled—but inside? Gold. Pages full of heartache, hope, and the kind of wisdom you only find by living through it.

Reading it reminded me that our words matter, even when no one else sees them. So now, I write here—openly. Because someone else might need the words I once wrote just for me.