The Journal Speaks
Mara began to write again.
Not for the therapist. Not for the group.
For herself.
The words were messy. Fragmented. True.
> “I hate that I still miss the highs.
> I hate that I mourn the version of me that sparkled.
> But I also love waking up and not being afraid of my mind.”
She didn’t know if it was healing or just habit.
But it anchored her.
Every morning before Eliana woke, she poured her heart into the pages.
And the silence answered back—not with fear.
But with recognition.
Leave a comment