There are days when I write because I want to. But more often, I write because I have to.
Growing up, I didn’t think of myself as a writer. I thought of myself as the quiet girl in the back of the room, the one who paid attention to how people spoke more than what they said. I listened to pauses, to trembling in voices, to silence. And somewhere along the way, that silence taught me something: it had a story, too.
Writing didn’t begin with ambition — it began with survival.
I was thirteen when I wrote my first real piece. It was a letter to my future self. I had no idea what I was doing, but the ink moved faster than my fear. I folded that letter and slid it under my pillow. I never found it again. But somehow, I think it found me.
Why I Chose the Sky
People ask me why I named this blog She Writes in Sky. The answer is simple: because sky doesn’t end. It stretches, it shifts, it holds storms and sunrises at the same time. That’s what I want my writing to be — expansive, changing, unapologetically open.
I don’t write to be right. I write to be real.
There are things I’ll never say out loud, but they live between my paragraphs. A heartbreak I never healed from. A friendship I still mourn. A dream I’m afraid to chase. They all show up — disguised as metaphors, softened by poetry, or scattered between commas like breadcrumbs back to myself.
The Notebook I Never Show Anyone
I still carry a notebook with me. A real one. The kind that smells like paper and coffee and maybe a little like hope. It’s full of things that don’t belong anywhere else. Ideas too fragile for the internet. Words too honest to be shared yet.
Sometimes, I think I’ll publish them. Most days, I think I won’t.
But knowing they’re there — waiting, resting, breathing — makes me feel less alone.
If You’re Reading This
Thank you. Not just for scrolling or reading, but for being here.
Maybe you’re also the quiet one. Maybe you’ve got a story in your chest that you don’t know how to tell yet. That’s okay. You don’t owe anyone your story before it’s ready.
But when you are ready, I hope you find the words.
And if you can’t — borrow mine.
— Elena Skybourne
She Writes in Sky
