This diary is a refuge for my innermost thoughts and feelings, captured in verse. Each entry reflects the ebb and flow of my emotions, weaving together moments of sorrow, longing, and introspection. Through the lens of poetry, I explore the shadows that linger and the echoes of my experiences, allowing the written word to transform pain into art. Here, I embrace vulnerability, chronicling the beauty found within heartache and the solace of solitude. Each page tells a story, inviting readers into the depths of my soul

Day 01

October 30 2024

In the quiet hours of the night,

When the world is wrapped in dreams,

I find myself lost in a silent fight,

Drowning in thoughts, unraveling seams.

The moon casts shadows on my weary face,

While whispers of sorrow echo in my mind.

In this hidden, sacred space,

I long for solace that I can’t seem to find.

Tears fall softly, like gentle rain,

Each drop a story, each sigh a plea,

A flood of emotions I can’t explain,

Captured in silence, they dance with me.

Behind closed doors, I wear a mask,

A smile that conceals the weight I bear.

But in these moments, I shed the task,

To be anything but fragile, to truly care.

The world moves on, unaware and blind,

To the heartache that lies beneath my skin.

I’m a ghost in the crowd, a soul confined,

Yearning for release, for the strength within.

Each night, I cradle my aching heart,

Cradled in shadows, where darkness sings.

In the stillness, I fall apart,

Searching for hope that the dawn will bring.

I remember laughter, the warmth of the sun,

But those memories feel distant, far away.

The battles I’ve fought, the races I’ve run,

Leave me weary, lost in disarray.

Yet in this silence, a flicker ignites,

A fragile flame amidst the despair.

For even in darkness, there can be light,

A reminder that healing begins with care.

I gather my tears like drops of rain,

Each one a testament to battles fought.

In acknowledging pain, I lessen the strain,

Finding strength in the sorrow I’ve caught.

With every sigh, I release the weight,

Letting the silence cradle my grief.

In this sacred space, I embrace my fate,

Transforming my anguish into belief.

No longer ashamed of the tears that fall,

I learn that vulnerability is not a crime.

In silent crying, I hear my call,

A journey of healing, a dance with time.

So here I stand, in the depths of the night,

With a heart that is heavy but slowly learns to mend.

For in the silence, I find my light,

A promise of peace that will never end.

Though the world may not see the battles I fight,

I carry my scars like a badge of grace.

In the quiet, I find my strength, my right,

To embrace my story, to own my space.

And as the dawn breaks, painting skies anew,

I gather my tears, let them fall like rain.

For in this journey, I’ve come to know true,

Silent crying is part of my beautiful pain.

Silent Crying: A Story

In the quiet hours of the night, when the world is wrapped in a soft blanket of dreams, I find myself lost in a silent struggle. Each evening, as the moon casts its gentle light across the room, I battle a tempest within—a fight no one can see.

Every night, I sit alone, feeling the weight of unspoken sorrow pressing down on me. Tears fall quietly, like gentle raindrops against a windowpane, each one carrying a story, a plea, a hidden pain. These moments of silent crying are both my refuge and my torment.

During the day, I wear a mask of smiles, crafting a facade that conceals my heartache. The world around me continues its relentless pace, blissfully unaware of the turmoil I hide behind closed doors. In the bustling crowd, I feel like a ghost, unseen and unheard, yearning for someone to notice the silent battles I fight each day.

As night falls and darkness wraps around me, I cradle my aching heart, feeling the shadows draw closer. In those moments, I remember the warmth of laughter and the brightness of the sun, but those memories feel like distant echoes. The struggles I face leave me weary, lost in a sea of disarray.

Yet, within that silence, a flicker of hope ignites—a fragile flame amidst the despair. I realize that even in the darkest hours, light can be found. Acknowledging my pain begins to lighten the heavy load I carry. I start to gather my tears, each one a testament to my resilience, transforming sorrow into strength.

With every silent sigh, I release a bit of the weight I have been holding. I learn to embrace my vulnerability, understanding that it is not a weakness but a sign of courage. Each tear that falls becomes a part of my healing journey, a step toward reclaiming my voice and my story.

No longer ashamed of the tears I shed, I find empowerment in my emotions. The silent crying that once felt like a burden becomes a sacred expression of my truth. I understand that in acknowledging my struggles, I can find solace and a path forward.

As dawn approaches, painting the sky with hues of hope, I gather my thoughts and tears like drops of rain. I embrace my scars as badges of grace, symbols of the strength I have discovered within. In the quiet moments of my journey, I find my light, a promise of peace that guides me onward.

And so, in the stillness of the night, I transform my pain into a beautiful narrative—a story of silent crying that leads me to healing, resilience, and ultimately, to the profound realization that my voice matters. Through the depths of sorrow, I emerge stronger, ready to face the world anew."

Day 02

October 31 2024

In the soft light of dawn, a new day awakes,

But instead of “Good morning,” a list gently breaks:

“Please take out the trash, and water the plants,

Fold up the laundry, and clean out the pans.”

The sun spills its gold through the window with care,

Yet tasks fill the air, with a weight to bear.

“Walk the dog now, and feed him his meal,

Dust off the shelves—let’s make this house real.”

But amidst all the duties, a moment of grace,

A breath of the morning, the sun on my face.

For in every chore, there’s a rhythm, a rhyme,

A dance in the daily, a stitch in the time.

So I gather my strength, with a smile in my heart,

Embracing the morning, I’ll play my part.

Though wishes are lost in the list that I see,

There’s beauty in doing, in simply being me.

...----------------...

Morning to me

Waking up, the familiar sunlight spills into the room, but instead of a cheerful “Good morning,” a list of chores greets me. The air feels heavy with responsibility, a gentle reminder of all that awaits. Each item on the list pulls at my mind, urging me to leap into action rather than savor the stillness of dawn.

I glance at the tasks—take out the trash, feed the dog, tidy up. They loom like shadows, overshadowing the warmth of the morning. There’s a sense of urgency, as if the day demands my immediate attention, leaving little room for reflection or peace.

Yet, as I push through the initial weight of obligation, a strange clarity emerges. The act of moving through each chore becomes a ritual, grounding me in the rhythm of daily life. The simplicity of folding laundry or watering plants takes on a meditative quality. In this way, the day unfolds, not with the sweetness of a greeting, but with the quiet determination of purpose.

It’s a different kind of morning, one that speaks of responsibility and the hum of routine, reminding me that even in the absence of warm wishes, there’s value in every small task that shapes the day ahead.

...----------------...

Good morning dear myself

I long for that gentle morning greeting,

A soft “Good morning” that wraps around me like a warm embrace.

I wish for familiar voices, laughter echoing in the air,

And smiles that greet me as the sun rises,

Instead of a list of chores waiting on the table.

The warmth of family, the comfort of their presence,

A shared moment of stillness before the day begins.

To sip coffee together, to feel love in the silence,

Not the weight of tasks that pull me from peace.

In that simple exchange, I find strength and joy,

A reminder that we’re together, ready to face whatever comes.

So I dream of mornings filled with connection and care,

Where the day starts not with duty, but with love in the air.