We all choose the way we speak.
Some talk louder, as if raising their voice makes their words heavier. Some talk softer, as if every sentence is a secret worth protecting. And then there are people like me.
I spoke, but no one ever listened.
At first I thought it was because I wasn't interesting enough. Later I thought maybe it was because people didn't care. Then, eventually, I realized something far worse.
It wasn't that my words weren't worth hearing.
It was that the world had already decided who deserved to be heard, and I wasn't one of them.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
The funny thing about being ignored is that you start to measure your life differently.
Not in grades. Not in money. Not in how many friends you have.
You measure it by silence.
By how often your words disappear before they ever reach another person's ears. By how many times your lips move but the world doesn't react.
The silence builds up, piece by piece, until it feels heavier than any weight you can carry.
That was my life.
People said I was smart. They said they saw potential. But those were just numbers on a page, labels people slapped onto me because they didn't know what else to call me.
Potential.
That word is poison when no one really believes you'll ever use it.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
My death wasn't anything worth writing about.
No explosions. No screams. No hospital room filled with crying family members.
Just a mistake.
One moment I was walking, and the next my chest felt tight, my lungs refused to pull in air, and I realized in a detached sort of way that my body was shutting down.
I didn't scream.I didn't beg.
I just thought about how ridiculous it was that I was leaving the world without anyone ever having really heard me.
My last breath left my body quietly.
The silence was complete.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
When I opened my eyes again, I thought maybe I had survived. Maybe the ambulance had come, maybe I had been saved.
But the world I opened my eyes to wasn't mine.
It wasn't the sky I knew. It wasn't the ceiling of any hospital room. It was… nothing.
A strange dimness. Cold, pressing, swallowing everything.
And then I realized something even stranger.
My body was wrong.
Too small. Too weak.
I tried to cry. I knew that's what newborns were supposed to do. Cry, scream, announce themselves to the world. But no matter how much my chest tightened, no sound came out.
I was silent again.
Voiceless.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
At first, I panicked. Because if a newborn doesn't cry, does anyone even know he's alive?
But then… a strange calmness filled me.
It felt like this was always meant to be. That my life, my silence, my ignored words, all led here.
Born again into a world I didn't recognize. And just like before, no one could hear me.
The irony was almost cruel.
I had wished, once, that if I ever got another chance, I'd live differently. Louder. Braver. I thought maybe I'd be someone unforgettable.
But here I was, smaller than ever. Weaker than ever.
And even in the very first moment of life, I was unheard.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
The cold grew sharper. My skin prickled. My tiny limbs twitched, useless against the air around me.
I couldn't see clearly, but I felt it. This wasn't a warm hospital delivery room. This wasn't a place made for life.
It was harsh.Lonely.
And if I had been anyone else, maybe I would have screamed. Maybe I would have cursed fate.
But all I could do was think.
Think about how someone else might have felt this moment.
Someone else might have been terrified. Someone else might have been furious. Someone else might have thought the world was ending.
For me, it was just another silence.
The same silence I had carried all my life, pressing against me like an old friend.
I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.
If I could.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Time passed strangely in that state.
Seconds felt like hours.My body felt like a cage, locking me into helplessness.But my mind was awake, aware, alive in ways it had never been before.
And maybe that was the first lesson of this new life.
That even when I was voiceless, I was still here. Still able to think. Still able to feel.
Still able to choose how to see the silence.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
The air felt colder again.
Somewhere, faintly, I thought I heard movement. Not voices. Not words. Just… something.
But they weren't coming closer.
No one was reaching for me.
No one was saying my name.
Of course not. I didn't even have a name here.
I was less than nothing.
A baby who couldn't cry.
A voice that no one heard.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
And yet… even in that silence, even in that weakness, I made a promise to myself.
If no one would hear me, I would hear myself.
If no one would name me, I would carry my own meaning.
If no one gave me a voice, then every moment I survived would be my voice.
I didn't know where I was.I didn't know why I was here.I didn't know what kind of world I had been thrown into.
But for the first time, I didn't feel like silence was the end.
Maybe it could be the beginning.
The beginning of a story only I could tell.
Because even if no one heard me, even if no one listened, I was still here.
Alive.
Waiting.
And that was enough.
For now.