A quiet corner of light in a world made of edges.
This is where I write about the beauty I stumble across
The glimmers of wonder are tucked between the chaos.
The people who have shifted the way I see the world.
The small moments that feel like healing.
Here lives the hope I never thought I'd hold.
The pride I’m still learning how to carry.
The softness I used to think I had to hide.
If Writing Out Loud is where I bleed—
This is where I breathe.
Today I closed the last page of my history course. To be honest, I didn’t love it. American history has never stirred anything in me, and these past weeks didn’t change that. Most days, it felt like a grind. But I stayed. I showed up. And now it’s done.
The end of summer always comes with mixed emotions. Here in Oklahoma, the heat still presses down heavy, cicadas humming in the background, the air thick with August’s last gasp. But the school year is approaching for my youngest, and that means the easy, unstructured rhythm of summer is about to be replaced with early mornings, packed lunches, and busy days.
After years of writing in a mess of scattered Word docs, chaotic folders, and documents named things like “WorldofThalindor.docx”, I downloaded actual writing software. I took my time researching different platforms, and in the end, I landed on Dabble.
It’s Sunday morning, and my house is quiet. The scent of coffee and sweet cream drifts through the air, warm and familiar.
In August of this year, I will turn 40.I'm in college now, chasing the dream I carried quietly for most of my life—to become a published author. And if not that, then at least to live in the world of stories, shaping and holding them the way they've always held me.
