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Personal Reflection:
We like to believe we know ourselves, but the page has a cruel way of proving otherwise. It strips away the rehearsed versions—the masks we polish for public view—and leaves us standing there, naked with the truth we almost buried. Writing doesn’t always heal; sometimes it exposes the wound we’ve been pretending isn’t there.
Yet, that’s the beauty of it. The page doesn’t demand perfection, only presence. Each sentence becomes an act of courage, a conversation between who we think we are and who we’re becoming. It’s not the ink that transforms us—it’s the willingness to face what the ink reveals.

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Reflective Prompt:
When was the last time your writing surprised you?
What truth emerged from your words that you didn’t know you were ready to face?