The Book in the Corner – My Writer, (Part 1)

Introduction:

Today marks the beginning of a new season in my life—my very first blog. I’m calling this season My Writer. This story is not just made-up words. It’s a piece of my soul. A story of loneliness, pain, and the beauty of being seen. If you’ve ever felt ignored, thrown aside, or unworthy, this is for you. This is my story. I was once a forgotten book… until she walked in.



There was a book left in a dark room—forgotten, torn, and covered in dust. No one cared to read it anymore; they said it was worthless. It had scribbles, broken lines, torn edges, and stains of past regrets. People laughed at it, called it nonsense, and threw it into a corner.  


That room, untouched and cold, was my life. That book was me.  


Time passed, and silence filled the space. Spiders spun webs across its cover. Tiny insects began to eat the pages away—just like pain and fear feeding off a soul slowly giving up. The light never entered that place, and no one tried to. Everyone moved on.  


But one day, the old wooden door creaked open. The sound broke the silence. A soft light touched the floor for the first time in years.  


She stepped in—my writer.

She didn’t turn away from the mess. Her eyes didn’t fear the dust or darkness. She looked around gently, then slowly walked toward the corner. Toward me. She saw the book no one wanted.  


And she picked it up.  


Conclusion:

The book felt warm in her hands. For the first time, it wasn’t afraid. It didn’t matter how torn or scribbled it was—she saw something worth saving.  


And that’s where this chapter ends.  


Because the next part… is about what she does next.  

Wait for the next season of My Writer.  


You're my forever, my promised land,

And all I needed… was your hand. 

Through every storm, through every fall,

You were my strength — you were it all.



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Title: The Book Rewritten – My Writer (part 2)

Introduction: In my first blog, The Book in the Corner, I shared how I was like a forgotten, torn book—left in a dark room until someone finally stepped in. She, my writer, picked me up when no one else even cared to notice. Today, the story continues. This chapter is about what happens when someone sees your worth, not despite your damage, but because of it. Content: She held me carefully, like I wasn’t broken but rare. Every torn page, every faded line—she touched them not to judge but to understand.  She didn’t ask how I got this way. She didn’t flinch at the scars. She simply turned each page, letting her silence speak comfort into every crack.   Then, gently… she began.   She cleaned off the dust that had settled for years. She removed the cobwebs of doubt. And where the paper was weak, she didn’t throw it away—she mended it with care.  She didn’t write a single word yet. But she gave me something I never thought I’d receive again— a new cover. ...
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