In every corner that you sit, in every air that you breathe.
Growing up, I am a stranger to expressing feelings. I never really speak about what I am going through — happiness, sadness, fear, anxiety, anger — I swallow them all, raw and alone. It feels like I am drowning in a sea where the water is my unspoken emotions, and I am gasping for air but never truly breathing.
I try talking. I pour out my heart to those I trust and hope they understand. But the world is a harsh place filled with judgment after all. They tell me my life is better than others. They say I am ungrateful and that I complain too much. It’s not too much to say those words cut deeper than the last and silence me further.
It feels as though my pain is invalid, dismissed as worthless compared to the suffering of others. I begin to believe that my struggles are insignificant, that I have no right to feel the way I do.
So, I learn to keep my exhaustion and sorrow to myself.
Either way, I believe that words are sharper than any knife. I fear that the words I will utter in anger might cause the same pain I have endured.
So, I think silence is the best choice. I believe that by staying quiet I will be seen as patient, more admirable even. Naively, I hope that silence will solve everything quickly — or at least more peacefully. I convince myself that my silence is a strength. But deep down, I know it is just a shield that protects me from the harshness of this world.
It has been so long since I feel alive, since I allow myself to feel anything deeply. It is as if a part of me has died, suffocated by the weight of these unspoken feelings. The wounds from hurtful words do not bleed visibly. But they fester within and refuse to heal even as time passes.
I understand that pain, and I do not want others to feel the same because of me. So, silence becomes my escape. I choose it in an instant, hoping it will protect both myself and those around me.
But over time, that silence begins to consume me from the inside. These untold emotions choke me, almost to the point of death, as they claw at my throat and desperate to break free. It makes each of my breath a struggle.
The emotions I bury deep within are more than ready to explode, but I do not know how to express them. I lack the understanding of the language to articulate my pain.
So, when I become numb to the cruel words, I hope you understand that I am just as angry, but my anger is silent.
That I am just as disappointed, but my disappointment is silent.
That I am just as fed up, but my frustration is silent.
And afterward, you do not have to hear my voice complaining about this or that. Do not bother asking why I no longer speak.
Because now, I hope my silence will haunt you.
Every time you think of me, I hope my silence devour your thoughts. Let it make you feel lonely in the middle of a crowd — just as I do, feeling alone despite being surrounded by people. Perhaps then, you will understand the deep silence that accompanies me.
When you try to sleep at night, I hope my silence haunts your dreams. Let it make you restless. Waking you with a feeling of discomfort, know that it is a piece of the agony I endure, the fear and helplessness that shadow me everywhere I go.
I hope my silence haunts you. Maybe you will realize in the end that those silences are not the ones I truly want, and let it be a realization that there is pain that goes unspoken and burdens that remain unseen. That behind the smiles and the words I never utter, there is a soul that has been hurt and is still searching for a way to heal.
