Silence.

I’ve known silence—

not the peaceful kind, but the one that screams inside,

a deafening weight

where my voice should be.

I’ve spent years as a spectator in my own story,

watching the words slip away,

too afraid they’d shatter if I let them fall.

____

I’ve carried the quiet like a second skin,

hiding the tremor in my hands, the quiver in my thoughts.

____

ADHD taught me how to chase my mind

but never quite catch it;

autism made me fluent in feelings

I couldn’t explain.

And yet, somehow, I learned to survive the chaos within.

_____

Yes, silence—it isn’t just a prison.

It’s also where I found myself.

In the stillness, I uncovered a faith that whispered louder than doubt,

a truth that called me back to life.

Through the grief, the questions, the noise of my mind,

I found Him—

a God who turned my silence into something sacred.

______

So now, when I speak,

it’s not for the world to hear—

it’s for me, for the part of me that stayed quiet for so long,

that’s learning to sing, to rise, to live,

To be heard inspite of the silence.

To heard first and perhaps only…..

From the inside of me.