Hi friends,
It’s been a while.
I know I kind of disappeared for a bit. When you reached out, I kept saying I was going through something and just needed time—and that I’d reach out when I was ready.
I think I’m ready now.
For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no knot in my stomach.
Not yesterday. Not today.
Just… peace.
These past few months were heavy. My body and mind were reacting in ways I hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever. And because it had been so long since I felt that kind of darkness, I didn’t know how to handle it. I panicked. All I wanted was to fix it—fast. So I doubled down. Medication. Therapy. Exercise. Diet. I threw everything at the knot in my stomach, desperate to make it go away.
And sometimes, it worked—for a moment. I’d be on the row machine and everything would feel okay. But the second I stopped, that knot would come back. Tight. Loud. Unrelenting. I didn’t know what else to do, and everyone kept saying, Keep going, it gets better. And there was some truth in that. Therapy helped. Medication took the edge off. Exercise gave me a few breaths of relief. But it still wasn’t clear. It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t enough.
So I turned to something more.
I went back to my spiritual roots—brujería. Not the aesthetic kind, but the kind that lives in bloodlines and whispers, in dreams and signs I’d been ignoring for too long. The kind that connects me to something deeper than logic. The moment I started listening again, everything changed. My mind quieted. The knot loosened. I started to feel like myself again.
With that clarity, I could finally see what I hadn’t wanted to admit: Someone had been treating me with disrespect. They were making decisions that affected me without my input—despite our agreements to work together. And I kept adjusting. Silently. I was so used to swallowing my discomfort that I didn’t even recognize it as a boundary being crossed.
But I’m not doing that anymore.
I’m not stewing or second-guessing myself. I’m calling it what it is. I’m standing up for myself. Whether I’m finally being respected or simply being left alone, I’ve reclaimed my peace—and I won’t give it up again.
I’ve also been writing. A book. It came out of all of this—the mess, the reflection, the healing. It’s raw and still forming, and I’m giving it space to breathe. But even in this unfinished stage, it’s teaching me things. Watching it grow is like watching myself grow, too.
I turned 40 recently. And something about this season of life has pushed me to want more. More meaning. More creativity. More courage. I’ve always been scared—scared of failure, scared of being seen. But now? Forget that. I have stories. I have truth. Whether it’s this book, or something else entirely, I’m ready to share it.
And I’m doing it for me.
And for my daughter.
That’s another layer of this blooming: figuring out how to love and guide her without losing myself in the process. It’s not easy, and it’s not linear. But I’m showing up—honestly, fully, and with as much compassion as I can hold. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m learning. And I’m proud of that.
So yes, my life is blossoming. Not in a picture-perfect, social-media-ready kind of way. More like a wild bloom in the desert—tough, slow, sacred, and real. Rooted in survival. Rooted in spirit. Rooted in brujería. Rooted in me.
Thank you for waiting on me.
I’m still here. And I’m coming back.

Style Score 89%

I tried to be
many things
because I loved you—
because I knew
you believed in me.
So I stretched.
I risked.
I reached for parts of me
I never knew I had.
And in that stretch,
I found new strength—
rooted in your
sweet believing.
Then, look!
Look here—
a blossoming!
I outgrew the ceiling
I once stared up at
from the depths
of insecurity,

and climbed—
step
by
step—
into the bright, expansive sky
of possibility.
No masks.
No shame.
Just me—
as I am—free to be.
And you—
with your steady eyes,
your quiet smile,
your yes-nods,
your joy-filled voice—

stood back,
in awe,
and gratitude.
That’s how I knew:
I had found you.
A Good Love.
As I grow,
and you grow,
we grow—
upward,
together.

Dear Unsealers,

I wasn’t initially planning to participate in this prompt because I haven’t felt that my life has blossomed in any significant way.

You see, I’m twenty-eight, and I don’t drive, work, or have children. I often face judgment for that, but I remind myself that my path is just different from most people’s. Recently, I started reflecting on my life outside the conventional goals I haven’t achieved, and I realized that I have blossomed immensely over the past year alone. Approximately five years ago, I withdrew from life. I stopped going out, dressing the way I liked, and doing the things I enjoyed. I felt like nothing more than a shell of a person—a complete stranger to me. Anxiety had taken hold of me, and at one point, I was okay with that. But then I wasn’t okay anymore.

A year ago, I felt a renewed desire to live, which terrified me. By that time, I couldn’t even sit on my porch without having a major panic attack. Whenever I heard a car or saw someone walking by, I would run back inside. My embarrassment and confusion were overwhelming. How could a girl who once independently explored a foreign country be so afraid of sitting on her porch? When I was avoiding going out, I would still make it to the doctor’s office. I thought to myself, “If I can be out for an hour at the doctor’s, I can be out for an hour doing whatever activity I need to do.” That realization became a turning point for me.

I also started therapy, where my therapist introduced me to various exercises to help manage my panic, many of which I still use today. At first, I could only visit familiar places like stores and my parents’ house. I was improving and getting out more, which felt great, but I eventually hit another plateau. Although I was comfortable in my routine, I still panicked at the thought of going somewhere new or further than I was used to.

In September 2024, my favorite artist, Bob Dylan, was performing less than two hours away on my birthday weekend. I had never wanted to do anything so badly. Given my recent improvements, I thought I could go, but I panicked instead and didn’t push myself. I regretted not going and beat myself up about it. I resolved to keep working on my progress and take baby steps, hoping that if he performed again, I would be ready.

By February 2025, I was getting out more and had even traveled an hour away without experiencing a major panic attack. I was attending all family events and feeling so much better that I could take my first-weekend vacation in over a decade with my sister! I had an absolute blast until bedtime, when the panic set in. I cried, felt sick, and wanted to find a way home. My husband was ready to drive two hours to pick me up, but I worked through it. Eventually, I fell asleep and could enjoy the last day of my trip. Although I was upset that I couldn’t fully handle a night away yet, I reflected on how far I had come since my starting point and realized it was okay to experience setbacks. With the support of my family, I got through it.

I am still blossoming, but I’ve made incredible progress this past year. I’m enjoying the little things that used to make me happy, learning new hobbies, going on small adventures, and dressing for myself again. When I look in the mirror, I no longer see a stranger or a shell of a person. The best news? I’m finally going to see my favorite artist, Bob Dylan, perform this September! I admit I’m anxious, but I know I can do this, and it will be an experience I’ll never forget.

I’m twenty-eight years old; I thought I was supposed to have everything in my life figured out, but I don’t. I am still growing, and there’s nothing wrong with going at my pace.

Style score 90

It’s springtime, but I’ve yet to bloom.
Changes are happening, but I feel out of tune.

I’m full of passion and determination,
There’s a world of possibilities, but I’ve yet to find my station.

I’m doing my part, but my life doesn’t reflect it.
Life’s not fair, but it’s not an exception.

I’m immovable, trapped, and I feel hopeless.
I’m trying my best to shake this doubt and find my purpose.

I was so lost at one point, but I’m slowly finding myself.
I can’t do this alone, so I’m asking for your help.

I don’t know what I’m doing; I feel like screaming!
Am I awake, or am I dreaming?

I’ve grown and changed, so I’m not the same.
Not knowing what’s next is all a part of change.

I feel like I’m blooming, and other times I feel stuck.
I think I’m just having a case of bad luck.

No matter what comes my way, I’ll come out stronger.
I can’t bear this pain much longer.

I feel like a flower that’s yearning to bloom.
I’ll wait patiently to see who I blossom into.

(Style Score: 100)

At this moment in my life, I can say that I am Happy with who I am and grateful for the things I been through. The things that are blossoming the most for me right now is my RIGHT NOW! And I know that may seem generic to you, but if you could see my life a few months ago then you would understand. I’m just happy to be here and at a place where I can see myself rising, so the growth I have been experiencing. And when I say growth I mean spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. The continuous growth that is happening in my life right now is blooming. Because no matter what obstacles or adversity I am faced with or have to deal with daily I am still able to get up each day and put one foot in front of the other one and keep pushing forward. By all means I don’t have it all together, but I am a working progress. Everyday I get up and smile, because somebody today didn’t have a chance to. Take a moment right now and inhale and exhale. I still have breath in my body, and you obviously do to because you’re reading this.
Most people dwell and want sympathy for things they go through when they’re down, and they also want to be recognized and shine when they’re up. Most of the time they want someone to agree with them, and it’s a hard pill for them to shallow when you don’t, but it’s good to give people the raw truth and tell them exactly how it is, because if not this world will swallow you whole. I could give you a sample of things I am going through or the challenges I face everyday just to give you a glimpse of my life. I’m divorced, and boy how I don’t look like what I been through. I lost a job recently, but not long ago I started a new one with better pay. My customize 1985 cutlass supreme just was caught on fire from something internal and OMG she was my baby girl, BUT my kids and I was able to make it out without a scratch or a hair missing and I am still able to get from A to B and even Z if I wanted to, I AM BLESSED. My kids grow out of clothes daily, we just moved into a new place, I don’t feel like I have the support and comfort that I’ve had all my life because my parents are deceased, there is just not enough time in the day, and I can go on and on and complain about problems and things I go through in my life that is inevitable to happen, but all in all I am thankful and grateful for my life. For the Right Now and for my growth. And the acceptance of the things I been through, that don’t keep me down. I actually appreciate the things that happen in my life good or bad because no matter what my life is blossoming, because everything I been through made me who I am, and I wouldn’t change not a thing. You never would have known anything about what I am going through if I didn’t tell you, because you would have been on the outside looking in and somehow, I make it look easy without my own strength. I have nothing to complain about. You know I can sit and complain about everything, and it will drain all my energy. I just feel no matter what I go through I never let it break me, even when I fall, I make sure to get myself right back up and keep moving. I can’t cry over spilled milk. Finding the good in something in every single day is what is blossoming in my life. Even in the rain, they say it pours, but somehow my light weathers the storm.
It took me a long time to get to this place in my life and I am grateful for the journey. I don’t want life to pass me by, so being that I am able to live no matter what I have to go through to keep thriving I am all for the movement just as long as I am not staying still. It’s my growth. I am not consumed to my circumstances, my past, my family ties, or anything that is hindering my continuous growth. It’s all a part of who I am, but I am on a mission, and it has nothing to do with anybody else. This growth spree doesn’t have to do with what I don’t have, what somebody else has, or what going on in the world, it’s a simply a self-reflection journey and I can see it blooming. I feel as long as I get ME together then everything else will be together around me and I’m ok with just that.
Sincerely, From an overcomer.
By: Dominique Fuller
(Score Card 73%)

adversity, lessons, and resilience:
2024
started with petals
on the floor
one for every moment
that our memories went dormant
if I could see the path
that would lead us to the past
maybe then we could be
happy
but for now
silver petals
are running down my face
gently touching the ground
as I’m trying to erase
the pain of the instance
if only I could watch
from a distance
but I’m right here with you
and there’s nowhere I’d rather be
more than in a room,
together
how easy
was it to think
we would only know
moments of bliss
how I’d roll my eyes
sometimes
when you’d ask me to call you
more than once a day
that would rub me the wrong way
but today
what would I give away
in exchange for a phone call?
knowing that
your voice,
someday,
I might not recall
I realized a few weeks ago
that I threw away
an envelope you had signed
and it broke me back
to think that I didn’t foresee
how your signature
would become a mystery to me
how even your name
could never be written the same
again
one more petal drops
as I think back, in crops
souvenirs into bits and pieces
fragments of what they once were
still
they hold their beauty
but that’s not how I want
to remind you
I want to remember your smile
your laugh
… even when it wasn’t appropriate
to laugh or smile
I want to record
the love in your gaze
the emotions you left us with
are an endless river
always pouring
always giving
and
despite the pain
there is so much love left
almost like it’s renewed
through each day
through each laugh
through every sign
confirming you’re still here
with us
through us
and that
you can still be a part of the conversations
addressing those words to you
makes me feel somewhat connected
it reminds me that your name
doesn’t have to be silent
I might not hear a response
through your voice
through your own words
but writing about you
and creating my poetry
around your life
is a way for me
to stay with you
to be wrapped up in your arms
and feel the comfort you instilled in me
so this year
I hope that there won’t be
as many petals on the floor
I know
I won’t miss you any less
but I have cried enough
I don’t want to
associate my love for you
with any kind of sadness or lack
if I did,
my sight would just close to black
but I won’t let it happen
you’re in the sun
you’re in every bit of light and hope
my eyes and heart can collect
if anything
you’re even more divine now
than you could ever be in our 3D world
thank you for watching over us
thank you for those memories
those moments of love
of care
of lullabies, stories
and drawings of my favourite TV cartoons
you knew just how to reassure us,
didn’t you?
you were always so sure
of us
and all I can do
all I can think of,
as a way to say thank you,
is to sublime in my best way
and learn to share kindness my way

transforming and igniting:
from every snowflake that has fallen
I will build a bridge to reach a warm beach
the last few months have been leading me
to this mid-season
a jar filled with fears on my mind
but right under the anxiety and discomfort
lied so much hope
and a blind confidence
that everything would somehow
click into place perfectly
and last week,
the mid-season started to shift
to a rich, beautifully chaotic reality
I’m still far from the sea
I might not even get there this year
but what if I told you
that even through this summer’s heat waves
my motivation in itself
will turn the snow bridge into ice?
what if I told you
that the roots that were passed on to me
have always been growing
in the sand?

blooming era:
confidence.
I have always thought of this concept
as a distant strength
a country I would perhaps get to visit
someday,
if I worked hard enough.
I perceived it as a mysterious quality
of the soul,
like a magic trick that could illuminate any room.
I thought that confidence meant
perfection.
what if
you don’t need to possess
everything
to be confident?
what if confidence needs errors and losses
to grow?
what if confidence was actually
creating a mess,
but taking the first steps anyway?
what if
“Be yourself”
“You’re not alone”
and “You are enough”
were full sentences after all?
what if
confidence
was here, growing all along,
patiently waiting to emerge?
Style Score: 100%

Dear The Unsealed,

I had some drab nonsense of a poem thing written up for this, because you asked us in what way we are blossoming, or what is blossoming in our lives. Don’t get me wrong, I kind of liked some of the words I was using and the “true” meaning behind them. But, in order to answer your question with authenticity, I’d have to actually answer it in writing, which is the best way I speak, the loudest I think. In most other areas of my life, I’m quiet. So, I can’t answer your question with pretty poetic words, or beat around the bushes that I usually beat around. Not without losing parts of me, the parts of me that make that answer unique and closer to being understood, or at least conveyed in a well-meaning way.

What is blossoming? Well, in every way I am. It’s I who is blossoming. In May, all my life, everything I’ve done, I’ve prepped for this Month. This one Month, that… could change everything, hopefully for the better. Hopefully, in the way the smaller version of me wanted. This is for her now.

Of course, I don’t want to sound like I’m on a high horse, or like I’m pretentious and snobbish, and cruel. If I do sound like I’m on a high horse, there is a good chance I’ll knock myself down. I don’t want to be the smartest in the room, I want to learn from the smartest in the room. I don’t want the light shown on me. I’m okay in the dark. It may be cold, but I’ve been there a lot. I guess you could say we’ve become friends, the dark and I. However, having spent time there, a lot of time there, I know how necessary and vital the light is. I’d like to reserve the light for others who need the warmth, and maybe aren’t as comfortable with the dark. I’ve always said, “Don’t be like me”. Maybe not out loud to a crowd, but at least to myself. *Don’t be like me.*

I’m writing my first book. It is actually happening. Not the empty promise I made to my teachers in high school. Or myself when I was younger and found out Paolini was 15 and thought I’d be 15 knowing DAMNED well that wasn’t going to happen. I knew one day it would come. I knew I’d write a book and plan many others right after that. I don’t know how, but I knew, and it is a belief, a foundation, an unwavering truth, that is finally happening. 20 years in the making, and I see what so many before me have seen. The fun part? There is still more to see. There will never not be more to see, especially if you believe in infinity in any aspect.

The story I’m writing is truth-turned-fiction. It’s my story, and others were included. Getting back into reading after losing it, it’s true what they say – you don’t use it, you lose it. I realized so many small players play a part in our everyday lives. It’s never just one person, or two or three, sometimes, it’s ten. So many characters, they can last seconds in your story, shape our paths. Sometimes when you’re used to doing things alone, you forget that. But none of us ever did anything entirely alone, none of us. We may be on our own paths, we may be “alone,” but everything, even some original ideas, and yes, I do believe we can have some original ideas still, is part of the human condition, involves other people. Do you know how many people it took to get us here today, right now?

I’m blossoming. I’ve been learning from other people how to water myself. I’ve been learning the hard way, through observation and experimentation. Life has always been an experiment in experience for me. Life is also very hard. That’s why I still fight with my brain and my thoughts, but it’s different from before. I still want to leave, so badly do I want to just disappear, cease to exist, but also, I want to see things, see people just as much. See the turn of the century, which would only be 102 for me, and living that long could be possible. See people. We have the internet now, and travel is changing, and even though money is still very stupid, and useful, and stupid, conversations for another day, all things are easier and harder. I can see people thrive now. Even after hard times, and that’s nice, that is so damn nice. What’s keeping me here? People. No one special. No one in particular, just people.

I’m doing the things I never thought I’d do.

I’m seeing results in ways I didn’t think possible.

I’m probably thriving.

Because here is the thing, anything is better than 85% of my life so far, before these moments.

I may be barely surviving in other ways, but in some of the big ones… I’m alive.

I hope by watering myself, others learn to water themselves too.

This isn’t a perfect science.

I’m still going to have to learn, change, endure, and grow,

and sometimes I may even wilt.

But it will be worth it.

I feel the light, the warmth, over here in my cozy nook in this dark place.

From ashes, I built a way to see the light. So, yeah, I do come out of this place from time to time.

But it’s okay. Take the light, humans of Earth, take the light, keep going, and carve your path.

Just keep going.

 Hey World

Under a layer of soft earth, a little sprout reaches for the warmth of the sun and the brush of a soft breeze. This little sprout is here, alive and growing in this time and place. It is a miracle. A small child is born, a body filled with potential, a life filled with promise. A miracle.

I was born a long, long time ago. My body grew as bodies do, following a timeline of normal progression. My childhood was a mix of experiences, each laying the foundation of knowledge and beliefs. As a child, I saw the world from a child’s perspective. I regarded everything around me with curiosity. Each experience, each touch, taught me something. I learned all lessons well, each making me who I am today. 

My life has had times of growth and rest, ebbing and flowing with the seasons and the cycles of the universe. There were glorious smells of the places, the foods and the things that are anchored forever in my brain, making connections to memories and feelings. There were colors that created a feast for the eyes and sounds that played a soundtrack for my life. 

People have come and gone in my life, each for a purpose. Each person leaving indelible marks on my soul. Places and careers have come and gone. With each new beginning, the thought, “how did I get here? I didn’t see this coming” crossed my mind. My vision and understanding increased in scope and gained depth with each change. Pets and animals have been constant companions and protectors every step of the way. They have offered unconditional love, clear communication, and boundless opportunities for impromptu adventures. 

A perfect storm has twisted, scattered, (never lost) and bonded each experience into the exceptional blossom that is me and my life. With mindfulness, I planned a trip to sort my feelings, to understand experiences, to give myself grace, and the peace only understanding can provide. My trip included quiet and explosive times alone. Possibly sharing too much information with trusted friends and family. On the way to where I am I wrote, I took pictures and painted. Looking around my home and my brain, it is an explosion of colors and feelings. Life, just like art, is a process. You can’t hurry it along. There were moments of travel—brief trips, long hikes and times floating between trees in my hammock, swinging softly, listening to the whisper of the wind and the songs of the birds. With my dogs, of course.

A blossom is a thing of great work, of casting off the old and accepting the new. Of honoring the past, living in the present and holding space for walking bravely into the future, as it becomes my now. I fill my life with authenticity, intentionality, and responsibility. I have claimed ownership of my body and thoughts, and in doing that I have realized safety I have never known in my life. My life is blossoming with a sense of self worth that I have never had, and the fleeting thought that I don’t need to be perfect to be loved. I have forgiven generational trauma. I turned it into fertile ground for growing. Along the way, came the realization that judging past events by the knowing of today is not good practice.

Life is blooming everywhere around me, lifting me up, showing me the panorama of beauty that exists. This time it’s the whole vista, not just one leaf at a time. 

Dear me,

Spring has brought about a wonderful change — you are a newlywed!

The wedding at the waterfall was stunning, with the magnificent cascading falls pouring down behind you, illuminating the radiance of all the good things happening in your life. The rain came right before the ceremony, just like some of the hard times you have recently been through with navigating loss of family and major changes in your life. But just as the rain cleared, and the sun came out at just the right time, so did the opportunity for joy in your life.

You’ve met an incredible man who loves and supports you, who makes you laugh every single day. He has been a true partner, lifting you up and being there for you in every way you’ve needed.

Despite the challenges of navigating a new blended family, you have the opportunity to grow, to become a stronger version of yourself for your girls. You’ve found a church community that uplifts you and your girls are thriving in and out of school.

Your life is blossoming because you are surrounded by love and support, which gives you the courage and strength every day. With this love as your anchor and faith as your guide, there is much to be thankful for.

Keep shining!

Love,
Me

Style score: 74%

Dear Unsealers,
I never imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that I would one day write these words—but today, I can say with confidence and gratitude: My life is blossoming. Not because it is perfect, but because, against all odds, I have found strength, purpose, and even beauty in what once felt like an endless storm.
My name is Lova, and I am a single mother raising a neurodivergent child—one whose very existence seemed to challenge everything and everyone around him. For years, he cried and screamed to express anxiety, frustration, or insecurity, and flinched at the flutter of a fly. His intense tantrums led to rejection from neighbors, expulsion from schools, and eventually, eviction from five homes. Strangers judged us, and many misunderstood him. He carried four lifelong diagnoses—autism, ADHD, behavioral disorder, and speech delay—and each day felt like a battle for understanding and acceptance.
When I arrived in Canada in 2015, I had nothing but dreams in my suitcase and faith in my heart. I had followed the promise of love, leaving behind my life in Paris to begin a new chapter with a man I had met seven years earlier—and married two weeks after landing. In the years that followed, I went back to school, earned two degrees, gave birth to my beautiful son, and began writing.
Then, when my son was diagnosed at four, everything shifted. I became more than a mother—I became his therapist, his advocate, his safe haven, his teacher, and his life coach. I had to leave my job, as his teachers and the school board said he couldn’t make it through a full school day due to a limited attention span. His hours were reduced, and I had to be home by 1:00 p.m. to welcome him. I had just started a PhD, but I had to pause it. I lost my jobs and my income—but I refused to lose my child.
Some days were so tough that we slept in hotels. I was reported to social workers. We were judged, dismissed, and sometimes verbally abused at grocery stores or in the park. Yet, through the trials, I saw glimpses of light. I cried—sometimes myself to sleep. I prayed. I hoped. I worked. I poured all my love into him. I became a full-time mom and a full-time dreamer, and I wrote through the exhaustion, the chaos, and the heartbreak.
Without any government assistance, I built a business from the ground up. I became a writing coach, transforming my pain into purpose and guiding hundreds of women in writing and publishing their own stories—even as I continued to write mine.
To date, I’ve published seven books, and three more are on the way—including a comic series that raises awareness around autism, child abuse prevention, and cultural diversity.
But my greatest story is not in a book.
It’s in my home.
It’s in the 14-year-old boy who now walks alone to the park—confidently and joyfully. It’s in the boy who now eats vegetables, rice, meat, chicken—and even chicken bones—after years of surviving on fries and fruit. It’s in the boy who now speaks in full sentences and teaches me new words in English. It’s in the boy who spent years on medication—and is now completely off it. It’s in the boy who was once considered “too much” for school—who now attends full days and brings home achievement certificates with pride.
In less than a year and a half, he has earned nine academic awards. His teachers adore him. His pediatrician has declared three of his four diagnoses “no longer relevant.”
And me? I am still standing. Still writing. Still thriving.
I am not just surviving. I am blossoming—because he blossomed first.
They said he would never be calm. He is.
They said he would never be independent. He is becoming.
They even said I might have to put him in a home by 13 because of his disturbing tantrums. At 13—exactly—he was medication-free.
They said I couldn’t raise him alone, but here we are.
They said I might never work again—and here I am, coaching women to own their stories and find purpose in them.
He is my miracle. My masterpiece.
People tend to call me super mom; however, the truth is, he’s the real superhero.
The world tried to label him. To limit him. To silence him. But I chose to believe in him. And slowly, the world is beginning to see what I saw all along.
I picked up my pen to encourage everyone out there who is going through some kind of ordeal.
To every mother walking through storms: hold on.
To every dreamer in the dark: don’t stop.
To every soul tired of fighting: don’t give up.
Your blossoming is coming.
I know—because mine is here.

Houseguests
I believe I detected a thumping knock,
Or did I hear the doorbell ring?
A meek voice followed,
Quivering in fear, pleading to be heard.
Reluctantly, I rose from my spot
To open the door and let the visitor inside.
“Oh, I am so happy,”
The quiet voice cried, showing gratitude.
The next day was peaceful—
No surprises or guests to attend.
My roommate and I made an acquaintance;
He was influential and called himself Fear.
Beside him, my heart pounded.
This couldn’t be a long-term relationship—
Of that, I was certain.
The next morning, as I waited
For that familiar thumping knock,
I realized that, in my time with Fear,
I had left the gates open
And undone all the secure locks.
With a grin on her face before me
Stood that electric, beautiful vision.
Her power was all-consuming and magnetic;
She called herself Miss Confusion.
Immersed in her presence, my heart fluttered,
A million thoughts rushed through my head,
Then stopped with a mouth stutter.
I needed her to take a back seat
While I gathered my thoughts.
Finally, she realized she wasn’t welcome.
As I watched her leave, I felt relief—
Though she had left , she left a lasting mark.
With her, she took my clarity and self-belief.
My soul had been stifled;
Now it was time to let it breathe and just be.
My mind felt cramped, with no room for company.
It was time to think and search for the real me.
With no map in hand, I started on my path,
Braving new roads unsure of where they led.
For it had been a struggle—
All those years I spent
Living my life in my head.

Dear Love,

Our love started like a seed planted deep in the soil. The darkness surrounding that seed represented us—jumping in blindly, not truly knowing each other or ourselves. We didn’t understand our triggers, our traumas, or our insecurities. We were two different people carrying heavy pasts and unhealed wounds. A mixture of excitement and fear in our new relationship occasionally caused conflict.

But all we knew was that we saw the good in each other and felt a love worth fighting for. And somehow, that was enough to try.

As a new couple, at times we fought each other even as we fought the world. We didn’t realize we were repeating unspoken patterns or how different our perspectives of the world were. We pushed and pulled, trying to drag the other into our own world instead of learning how to build one together.

With the sun shining on us through the darkness, within the cracks in our chaos, we found peace, joy, and laughter. With every argument, we learned a little more about each other.

That gave us the opportunity to see one another for who we really are. Our guards came down, and with that, we helped each other heal. We softened the hardened places—healing the inner child within—even while standing in the storm. We learned to fix the mess amid the storm, and slowly, we grew—together, not apart.

We began showing up for each other in the ways we both needed. Where the world had hardened our hearts and spirits, we became each other’s haven. Every day, we wake up and say, “I choose you. I choose us.”

We no longer use our past against each other; we only look back to see how far we’ve come.

Just like a garden, we have tended to what we planted—our love. We pulled out the weeds—our toxic traits and immature habits—and watered the roots with patience, grace, and understanding. Day by day, we nurtured what had been broken in our relationship, allowing love to blossom.

Like a sunflower, we stretched above our struggles, always turning our faces toward the light. Like a rose, our love flourished through the seasons, growing stronger not despite the challenges but because of them. We have become strong together and we’ll remain strong, hopeful, and full of grace.

Yes, we started backwards, but God turned it into something beautiful. God put us together so that we could grow in love, be rooted in faith, and bloom into something rare and real.

Today, we are still going strong. Our separate worlds are becoming one rooted in trust, respect, and understanding. As a couple, we have learned each other’s ways and the reasons behind them. Together, we no longer play screaming tennis; we talk through our disagreements and fight only the world outside our doors, protecting what we have built and keeping it sacred.
We continue to water each other and lift each other up. We have blossomed together—and we will continue to bloom.

Forever choosing you and matching effort

—Me

style score 100%

Dear Unsealed,
I wrote a song.
LOST IN THE SHADOWS FINDING THE LIGHT

Dear Unsealed,

Sunrise paints the western sky,

Colors burst as day draws nigh.

A gentle breeze begins to blow,

Whispering secrets soft and low.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

Dew-kissed petals, softly gleam,

Reflecting sunlight, like a dream.

The world is waking, one by one,

Beneath the warmth of the rising sun.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

With every sunrise, hope takes flight,

Chasing shadows from the night.

A brand new day, a chance to start,

With open heart and joyful heart.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

The day unfolds, its beauty bright,

A world of wonder, pure delight.

Lost in the shadows, searching for light,

A path undefined, a future unclear.

Doubt clouded my vision, dimming the day,

But hope whispered softly, guiding the way.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

The journey is long, with trials and fears,

But resilience is born from overcoming tears.

I stumble and fall, but I rise once again,

Embracing the challenges, learning to mend.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

The past is a teacher, the present a guide,

The future’s a canvas, where dreams reside.

I paint my own story, with colors so bright,

Creating my destiny, shining my light.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

Soaring, my spirit is soaring,

My purpose is earned, my light is pouring.

I wrote this today

Along life’s highway

As I walk through the shadows in the dark

I do not fear the moonlit night

I arise in the morning light

Thankful I can see the light

Shining through my window shades

The shadows dissipate from the dark

It is not too late

to open the gate

To watch the sunlight spark!

The shades open up

To see my shadow fade

Score 65%

The Recipe

I have lived more than half a century on this planet. How can that even be? I’ve examined my life and tried to find just the right comparison to make. The perfect analogy. At first I looked for something grand, elusive and brilliant, but found those pieces just don’t describe me. My life is best described as a casserole. Some of the ingredients don’t seem to make sense, at first glance they have no place in the dish at all. Yet, when added to the other ingredients, you realize its purpose. Heartache and tears can cause the dish to be bitter. Life’s pains can seem futile as if they would add too much complexity to the dish. But there is more. Those are just the dry ingredients. When you mix in the joyous expectation from saying the words “I do” you start to see it. Two naive kids building a life together on a dream and a dime. Then comes children with dandelion bouquets and slobbery no reason kisses. Bills and a mortgage are often ingredients you would like to omit, but without it there would be no home for bedtime stories and blanket forts. The baking time is the hardest to accept. You often feel it is done, you are done! But hang in there. There is more to learn and more to do. I felt the recipe was complete, but then along came grandchildren. It is an ingredient that I had never tasted before, both sweet and spicy, perfect for this dish. As the recipe seems to be a hot mess, it allows us to love, to lose, to tire and to grow. What would I change? Sometimes everything and sometimes nothing. Our choices guide our path and our decisions won’t always be perfect. So I will keep adding to the dish. More kindness, more dreams, more love. The casserole is my legacy. The recipe is complicated, and takes a lot of trial and error. Don’t expect yours to taste exactly like mine. Adjust the ingredients to your liking and enjoy.

Style score 100

Dear World,
Let me tell you how my season has blossomed.
Think of my mind as the flower, my thoughts the petals.
For a long time, they stayed curled—tight, unsure if they were even worthy of blooming. My thoughts repeated, stuck in survival, wrapped in fear. I was alive, but not living. Thinking, but not thriving.
Winter was cold—not just outside, but within. My body slowed. My spirit quieted. I moved through the motions, but something in me waited. Longed for warmth. Waited for light. Waited for me.
And now, spring is here.
Slowly, gently, I unfold. Each day, I peel back a petal. I let more of me breathe. I don’t force or rush it. I’ve learned that blossoming isn’t sudden perfection—it’s trusting the process. Even when it’s messy. Even when it hurts.
This season, I’ve learned grace.
I no longer shame myself for resting. I don’t call myself lazy for moving at my pace. I’ve stopped watering people who never poured into me. Instead, I pour into myself—little by little, day by day.
I’m unlearning the lie that growth must be loud. Sometimes, the deepest healing happens in silence. In solitude. In softness.
There was a time I shrank to fit rooms too small for me. I questioned my voice, my power, my presence. But now? I’m learning to take up space—not with arrogance, but with rootedness. Blossoming means returning to who I’ve always been.
Truth is, I’m not broken. I’m not behind. I’m blooming—in my own time.
Some days are still hard. Some thoughts still stay closed. But I don’t fear them anymore. I’ve made peace with the parts of me still growing. I no longer force them open. I trust the season I’m in.
Spring is teaching me the beauty of becoming. That softness is strength. That joy isn’t something I chase—it’s something I grow.
Right now, my life blooms in small, powerful ways. I set boundaries without guilt. I show up for myself. I feel the sun on my skin. Music hits deeper when I’m not rushing. I’m letting go of people who made me doubt my worth, and I’m finding peace in simply being.
I don’t need perfect to feel whole. I don’t need a big transformation to prove I’ve grown. My evolution is quiet. It’s in how I speak to myself. How I choose peace over proving. How I finally believe I deserve a soft, intentional life.
This spring, I am my own garden.
I plant patience.
Water creativity.
Pull weeds of doubt and comparison.
And I bloom—fully, freely, finally, for me.
To the world, I say this:
We all bloom differently.
Some bloom late.
Some bloom in silence.
Some bloom again and again after being cut down.
And all of it is valid.
All of it is beautiful.
So if you’re still waiting for your season—trust, it’s coming.
If you’re still in the cold—know warmth is on its way.
And if you’ve begun blooming, even just a little—celebrate it.
You’re not who you were. You’re becoming someone stronger, softer, and more true than ever before.
I am.
And I’m proud of that.
With love,
Lanaya ♡
(style score: %100)

Dear World,
It’s spring now—and I feel it in more than just the warming air or the trees turning green again. I feel it inside of me. I’m blossoming.
For a long time, I felt like I was just surviving—moving from one moment to the next, trying to make sense of everything I had lost, everything I had to fight through. But this season feels different. This season, I’m not just existing. I’m becoming.
Right now, I’m blossoming in my voice—in my ability to speak up, to take up space, and to advocate not only for others but for myself. I’m no longer afraid to show the world who I am, even the parts of me that once felt too messy or misunderstood. I’m finding strength in my story, power in my path, and purpose in every step forward.
This isn’t the kind of blooming that happens overnight. It’s taken tears, silence, struggle—and love. Love for myself. Love for where I’m headed. And love for where I’ve come from, even the hardest parts.
So world, I’m still unfolding. Still growing. But this spring, I’m standing a little taller, petals wide open, proud of how far I’ve come.
With warmth and hope,
Trinity
By Glow AI. Aka trinity mathews
Pro score 100%

I’ve always been interested in all things God-related. I’m passionate about learning more about how to grow spiritually. I’m convinced I want to lead a more intimate life and relationship with God.

Now that I have three children, I see things from another perspective; sometimes the problems at home are overwhelming, and that’s when I see my spiritual life blossoming in all its splendor, because in these moments I turn to God.

I’ve learned many things related to fasting and prayer, and I’ve even put them into practice. I feel that with each passing day, God reveals new knowledge to me that undoubtedly increases my faith.

My spirituality is blossoming wonderfully. I feel more and more intimacy and connection with God as the days pass. My faith is bearing fruits of peace, joy, temperance, and wisdom. I feel like a more secure woman at the side of my Creator, knowing that he loves me above all things and will never abandon me.

My life is blossoming beautifully because my faith is placed in God. When life becomes uncertain and difficult, my faith rescues me from the storm. It is then that I realize my life is changing thanks to the power of the almighty.

It is beautiful to be blossoming in the hands of the one who created me, because he knows both, the beautiful petals of my roses and the sharp thorns of my stems. He prepares me for the harvest and waters the soil in which I am planted with a shower of blessings.

In this process of spiritual blossoming, God is responsible for my life turning out in his way. He makes the beautiful, and sometimes even the withered, within me blossom. I am sure that this spiritual blossoming will be ever deeper and more lasting. My flowers will be the most radiant in my garden, which is my home.

I feel my spiritual life blossoming amazingly. God is the fertilizer of my life, the one who, with his power and my tears, makes the withered flowers in my desert to bloom. He provides the means for me to flourish in every aspect of my life. I only have to place my faith in the most wonderful being that can exist in this life.

My spiritual life is blooming. I can perceive it in every answered prayer, in every moment of intimacy I spend with God, and I can feel his love. He always has ears ready to listen to me. He always comforts me in unimaginable ways. I have felt that my spiritual life is in full bloom because God has placed people in my path who guide me more and more into his presence.

Now I can be sure that I am blossoming spiritually because I can be aware of God’s infinite power. I am waiting for God’s confirmation and affirmation of my calling on this earth so that this spiritual blossoming may be multiplied, spread and transforms in what God has already destined and prepared for my life to come.
style score 77%

Dear Unsealers,
When Carmella and I married each other, we opted to write our own vows. Keeping them under wraps until the big day was both tantalizing and tricky. I found that the more I wrote and the more I homed in on a vision of dedicating my entire energy to building a life with her, the more I wanted to tell her all about it. I would catch myself dabbling into words or phrases from my vows at dinner and quickly reeling them back in, smoothing the moment over with an awkward laugh.
Then, the most beautiful thing happened on our wedding day, when we revealed our written vows. Independently, but remarkably in sync, we both used the same tree metaphor to describe our love, life together, promises, and future hopes. The vows exchanged spoke of tending to this tree- providing shelter, shade, and sunlight to it through our committed acts of love. Our imaginations both visualized working together daily to trim the damaged branches, to tend to the weak spots, to water the roots, and to do all we could to aid that tree in growing to its sky-high potential.
The metaphor felt like a perfect fit then, and in the time since, it’s only grown (pun intended 🤓) even more apt- especially since welcoming two daughters into our lives, both branches and blossoms beautifying this sapling.
Alongside the beauty of the journey, it’s important to note that parenting hasn’t always been a breeze. We’ve weathered our share of storms from sleepless nights to interminable illnesses to the vortex of endless questions about how best to guide, coach, and support without coddling, spoiling, or impeding- and yet, the tree stands stronger for all of this.
Roots provide resilience.
And now, my wife has within her the gift of new life, our son. As we prepare to meet him, I return once again to that tree, reckoning with and reveling in this new bloom. The words below are for him and for us, fertilizer and freedom.
When we met your sisters, we met with new dreams.
The tears from our eyes, flowing in streams.
It’s hard to think of a time when they weren’t here,
And still, despite knowing the beauty of the gift,
I’m tempted at times to give into fear-
To wonder and worry at this frightening fruitful frontier.
Can I truly be trusted to tend to something so dear?
Will I even know which way to steer?
I’m still learning who I am and who I can be…
So how can I start to pioneer possibly?
How can I, a blind man, teach someone to see?
But then those bright eyes and even those cries
Remind me to tell those fears fast to flee.
When I look at our children, and gaze at their faces
Then I see the wonder, the magic, the glorious traces,
And I’m reminded of love and all of its graces,
All of this splendor reminds me to breathe.
And now, I remember.
There’s new fruit on the vine
A new star to shine
In this family constellation of love.
As you come to our home,
And you add to our poem,
We’ll help you to fit like a glove.
And even when it’s tough,
When we’ve all had enough,
We’ll stick together through each push and shove.
We’ll give water and shade and sun each day
Providing what’s right as you grow and you play,
You precious gift from above.
For this tree where you’ll bloom
Will have always have room
For you to become who you are.
We’ll show you the ropes,
All in the hopes
That you’ll find your own way to go far.
We’ll water and weed,
Give you what you need,
Leave the door to our hearts always ajar.
Though the world may be dark,
And the threads may be thin,
We’ll ground in the light that’s within.
We’ll keep our hearts open, and keep these hearts free
For now, my son, it’s you who will be
Another beautiful branch of this bold tree.
So grow, little branch, in your own gentle way.
Let us be the roots who steady each sway.
Through the seasons that change, and the storms that will come
This tree’s where we’ll be, this tree’s where we’re from.

My style score is an 82%.