Just found out that the diarmi app is more of a Journaling..not one that you can publish your story and get paid. It has on there a tip thing but....im so now lost. I know can do amazon..but last time put on there, got hacked and account closed and everything. I can't afford a real publisher..now how am I gonna get my stories out there.

Hi fellow writers, I hope you’re all doing well. I’d love to connect,.what stage are you currently at in your writing journey (drafting, editing, or published)? Feel free to share your experience.

I’m 43, and not too long ago I was working a restaurant job earning about $500 a month. It paid the bills, but I knew I wanted more. Everything changed when my sister introduced me to Shopify dropshipping. With her guidance, I stayed consistent, learned the process, and built my own store from scratch. Today, it’s generating around $30k a month. But beyond the income, what drives me most is legacy. One of my biggest fears is leaving this world without setting my children and grandchildren up for stability. That’s why I’m committed to teaching them how to build their own stores and create opportunities for themselves. For me, it’s not just about making money it’s about building something that lasts.

My chest is caving in again, I swear I feel it crack, Heartbeat’s racing like a car crash I can’t take back. Every breath’s a warning sign, red lights in my brain, I tell myself I’m fine but it’s just another chain. Mirror says “you’re worthless”, and I almost believe, Tried to patch my heart with tape, it just won’t ever leave. I can’t breathe in my own skin, Feels like I’m drowning deep within. I fake a smile, say “I’m okay,” But I’m breaking more each day. I’m a failure in disguise, Screaming out behind my eyes, No one hears the war within, Can’t breathe in my own skin. My head’s a hurricane, spinning guilt and fear, All the voices in my skull are the only ones I hear. I used to have a spark, now it’s ashes in my throat, Every dream I ever had, I built it just to watch it float. My friends say “it’ll pass,” but they don’t understand, This storm inside my chest don’t listen to commands. It’s the panic at 3 a.m., When your body’s not your friend, And your heartbeat sounds like gunfire You can’t defend. And depression’s just a ghost That wears my face, It whispers, “you’re a waste,” And I can’t escape. Tear me open, see I bleed static, My head’s a riot, it’s automatic. Try to fight but my lungs give in, Drowning in the dark again. I can’t breathe in my own skin, Feels like I’m fading from within. I fake a laugh, I play the part, But I’m collapsing in the dark. I’m a failure in disguise, Still I’m trying to survive, No one hears the war within, But I’ll learn to breathe again.

I'm new at Haiku. I usually write rhyme , rhythm poetry, but I've been trying other poetry styles.