The silent change
Once, my words were rivers, flowing freely into your hands, laughter echoing in shared spaces, secrets blooming in the quiet. Now, the echoes fade to whispers, half-heard, half-held, half-lost. Some of you have vanished like dusk, and those who remain— their ears are full of everything but me. I try to speak, but my voice dissolves, drowned in the weight of what’s missing. I used to offer my heart in handfuls, but now, I keep some for myself. So I sit with my unspoken thoughts, not as a prisoner, but as a friend. I am learning the language of solitude, not as a burden, but as a gift. Even in silence, I still exist. Even alone, I still grow.