The Loudest Silence
My throat hurts, yet I havenāt screamed. I did it silentlyā¦ no sound, just swallowed everything like I always do.
It burns in a way I canāt explain, like words scratching to get out but never quite making it past my lips. Iāve mastered the art of being quiet, of nodding, of pretending Iām okay even when my chest feels too tight to breathe properly.
People think silence means peace. But they donāt hear the noise inside my headā¦ the constant echo of things I wish I could say, the things I almost said, the things Iāll probably never say.
Itās exhaustingā¦ holding in a scream that never comes out. Because where would it even go?
So it stays here. In my throat. In my chest. In the spaces between my breaths.
And somehowā¦ I keep going like this.
