safe in silence
when i was a kid, being alone meant i was safe. there was no one there to be enraged, no one around who could elicit my fear, nothing unpredictable. i got used to finding refuge in quiet spaces. unfortunately, that habit seemed to have followed me into adulthood.
i learned to believe that a safe life is a solitary one, but this sentiment became a catalyst for my lifelong tendency to isolate. even the ache of loneliness isn’t always enough to pull me out of it.
sometimes i think i’ve gotten too good at disappearing. at staying quiet, staying distant, keeping parts of myself tucked away where no one can reach them. it feels easier that way, like nothing can hurt me if i stay just out of sight. but there’s still a part of me that wants connection. a part that wants someone to understand me without me having to explain everything, someone who sees the quiet and doesn’t mistake it for emptiness.
i want to be known, but at the same time, i never want to be seen.