The journal my aunt gave me

I never set out to become a writer. I simply fell in love with words. From about the age of ten, I found comfort in poetry — whenever life felt too heavy, I'd reach for a notebook and write. Those early poems weren't written for anyone else to read. They were simply where I left my heart.

In 1994, my aunt gave me a journal. She had a beautiful gift with words herself, and without either of us knowing it, that simple gift became the beginning of my writing journey. The very first poem I wrote in it was called "Weeping Willow."

As I grew older, poetry became journaling, and journaling became a way of making sense of life. Through some of the hardest seasons I've lived through, writing became my safe place — the freedom to untangle thoughts I couldn't always say out loud. I've never studied creative writing and I don't have a formal degree. Just a notebook, and the habit of reaching for it.