I See Sunshine in Your Words and Hidden Magic in Your Journal

You keep writing, pen, and you’ll open the doorway to my soul

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She stared at the page for hours. No words came. She didn’t want to write. Didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want the ache in her chest to spill onto paper — that sacred space where truth can’t hide.

But if she didn’t write, the thoughts would circle all day.

She’d snap at someone she loves. Withdraw. Carry the weight like a stone in her gut.

So, she picked up the pen.

Wrote about a morning cup of tea with honey. About the two cats and one dog asleep at the end of her bed. About the way her skin looked softer today — how more water and less sugar made a difference.

She didn’t want to write.

But she did anyway.

And something in her shifted.

It wasn’t everything.

But it was enough.

Enough to get through the day.