Nishelle’s Journal
*August winds whisper memories — each inked page below holds what the voice could not say aloud.*
✒️ “Some wounds don’t bleed — they echo.”
I didn’t know grief could hum like a lullaby. Last night I whispered to the moon — and it wept back…
✒️ “Burdened hearts still beat.”
There are days when my chest feels like a locked box. But even pain becomes sacred when held long enough…
✒️ “I wrote to feel less alone.”
They say writing is release. But I write to survive the silence. To find form in the ache…
✒️ “A letter I never sent.”
Dear you — the version of me you never met… I still carry pieces of your goodbye tucked in old pages.
✒️ “Even shadows need holding.”
I reached out to the dark part of me — and it didn’t bite. It just wanted to be seen.