The silence is too loud. It is. It was.
The world didn’t know my words. You didn’t know my words. Because I said nothing.
I couldn’t say anything.
All these words resided within me and I couldn’t speak. I tried to allow them to breathe, to let them out. But I couldn’t.
Do you know what you did? You spoke to me and for me. You spoke despite my silence. You spoke because you knew it was necessary, but you also stayed silent so my internal world could catch up to your words.
Your words about me became my own. I realized this today. Today, as I was speaking to someone who has also struggled with silence, I saw myself reflected. And then I saw you and in that moment, I realized what had happened. I realized that the less you’ve been saying out loud, the more I’ve been saying internally. The silence has converted into another silence. But it’s not the same silence. This silence is built upon a stream of flowers, the other upon broken bottles.
Your words now reside within me. I hear you as me, and I feel like it’s me talking. You held my silence in a way no one ever did before. You not only made room for it, you invited it in.
The patience you gifted me from day one painted the room each time I entered it. If patience had a color, it’d be the color on the walls in whatever room you’re in with me.
I need you to know that your patience has made me better. You’ve given me a gift that I cannot hold just for myself. You’ve given me a gift I want to give away to others. The more I give, the more I have.
You did this. You allowed this to bloom.
.