🌑 The Weight of Silence

There’s a sound to silence.

It’s not empty — it hums, low and constant, like a wound still trying to close.

I learned it young — the kind of quiet that follows after you’ve cried yourself hoarse,

after your voice has gone unheard too many times to try again.

Silence became safety.

If I didn’t speak, they couldn’t twist my words.

If I stayed small enough, still enough,

maybe the chaos would pass me by.

But silence also became a cage.

Each unspoken truth built walls inside my chest,

until I could barely breathe under the weight of everything I never said.

Even now, I still pause before speaking —

still test the air to see if it’s safe.

It’s strange how something that once protected you

can slowly start to suffocate you.

💌 To the one who mistook silence for peace:

You were not wrong for choosing quiet.

You were surviving in the only way you knew how.

But now, your voice deserves the space it was once denied.

Let it tremble.

Let it break.

Let it become the sound of your freedom.