This series is drawn from my personal journaling as a teenager. Every entry began the same way: “Dear____.” Writing just to write felt wrong. I wanted to tell someone, to share my journey; but at the time, I had no one to share it with. So, I wrote to myself, to the universe, or to a person I longed to reach. I left it open, letting it drift into the void.

That void has held every word over the years, both written and spoken. These letters of becoming carry that same intention. You don’t need to respond with a letter of your own. These reflections are pieces of my journey. I hope they help. I hope they heal. I hope they comfort. I hope they stand as a small candle of love, offering you a moment that feels a little less lonely.

I started writing a poem, and it turned into something else. This one might lose me a few people, that’s okay. The garden gate is always open for both comings and goings.

This is basically a personal journal entry. I was thinking about a conversation I had with a friend, and how I felt disconnected from it because I could hear a second conversation beneath their words.

It inspired feelings of loneliness, if I’m being honest. To be able to see others so clearly but not have them see you as well? It’s such a human thing, to desire being seen. Trauma taught me to observe. I learned to study micro facial movements and think ahead in conversations, instead of academics.

Healing didn’t stop those habits or responses; it just turned them into a usable tool. I found a home within myself. I found wonderful truths I once thought were lies. But the more aware I have become of myself, the more aware I have become of others, and I don’t quite know what to do with that.

So, here’s a piece of me, trying to figure it out.

I used to think that “shadow work” meant digging up all of my trauma and forcing myself to “deal with it”. My journey has shown me that it’s not about digging things up with raw bleeding hands hoping to find healing— It’s remembering who I am and reminding myself of that in the face of shadows.

A little late, and a bit messy.

A poem from between the clock ticks.

Love that persists beyond presence.

A game of trust.

Philogynist- Someone who likes or admires women.

It's fading, but it snags.

Defining labels for myself.

Offering my heart without handing over my spine.

Erotica was one of my first forms of rebellion. As a young girl, something sacred was taken from me. I have learned to rewrite that story through desire. These words, these whispers, these moans-on-paper are more than sensual play; they are reclamation.

To stand in erotic expression now, as the woman I’ve become, is to choose myself fully. It is healing. It is defiance. It is freedom.

Moonlit Desires is my offering to the shadows: a space where pleasure and power entwine, where what was once stolen becomes mine again, entirely.

Healing religious trauma through self-discovery.

The poetry of menstruation.

The shadows we inherit.

A poem of self-discovery

Reflections of Healing and Integration.