There is silence that speaks more than a thousand words

We all sometimes feel that we have failed. If we could have done more. If we had… said something different or maybe opened our heart a little more. And sometimes I have the feeling of deliberately pushing people away, because that reasonable part of me thinks that it is better, that it is smarter, easier …

But as time goes on, I realize that even the right thing is not always right if it hurts you too much. Then I say again, ‘Just one more day. Endure another day and it will be easier. ‘ Because at some point it has to become easier. Right?

‘You were cold enough and now you are quiet enough to quench your desire to talk. It will all pass. ‘- is a thought that, like a bad song, goes on repeat for weeks.

And so week after week and month after month, I don’t move, because all of my right decisions are kicking my ass.

They hurt me.

And how the hell can the right decisions hurt?

Those curves should be devastating to the heart. They should be our lessons.

Not these good, right, noble ones.

‘There is nothing noble about persistently trying to do everything yourself. Because no matter how strong you are, you are only human at the end of the day. ”- my mom told me in that short conversation when she asked me for the 100th time what was wrong, because lately I have been working a lot and talking a little.

Even though I know it doesn’t look like that out there, because I write a lot and I always smile when people approach me, but those close people, those who know my soul, can see the difference .

If there was the Emotional of the Year Award, I would be the first to be nominated. Because it’s amazing how emotional I am even when I don’t care and when I care too much.

And while some may think it’s talent, being able to simply make a click in their head and switch from one mode to another, I will personally tell them that they have no idea what they want.

It is not an art, it is a curse that is only welcome at business meetings.

People around me always raise their eyebrows and get anxious when I’m quiet.

You don’t get me like this here, because I write to you everyday … and I actually write to myself, because I say out loud things that hurt, bake, disturb … sometimes annoying or just causing anxiety.

You don’t get to feel what people in my world feel, which is the silence and too much space they get with it.

‘Are you okay?’ – a friend asked me last night because I hadn’t sent her a message in days.

All I know is that I apologized for not reporting and I don’t remember what I told her. I don’t know how I am.

But I do remember some, long ago, moments when, as a true, fearless lioness, I could roar that everything was shaking. I needed a show, drama and a lot of attention.

I was tough. Not only the environment but itself. But somewhere along the way, things have changed. Gluttony turned into order, work and discipline. I replaced the drama with creative, and instead of roar and noise, I chose silence.

On the outside, it seems like I don’t particularly care about anything but myself … but you know that story, how do people care when they get into a fight? It’s just a story.

The ones who care the most are the ones who go silent.

Those who solve their problems on their own. To those who will not burden you, nor pour for hours about one and the same from hollow to empty.

When something hurts, I am silent. I am silent because I do not want anyone listening to me about things that they cannot handle anyway. And these are not stupid problems, not even classic life challenges from work and bills, but things that no one can digest from today to tomorrow.

Sometimes I don’t have the answers. But I’m wise enough to know that I won’t even find them in other people. Which is why I rarely ask questions and ask for advice. And it often happens that what people say, although in good faith, does not resonate with me.

I realized that only in silence could I grow and handle things with myself. It’s nothing personal. This does not mean that I no longer love someone, as people often interpret themselves. Doesn’t even mean I didn’t notice they needed me, it just means that at this point I can’t give more than I give.

Isn’t that weird? What do people persistently think they love us and then ask us to break apart and give more than is realistically possible?

Perhaps that is the reason for my silence, a message to someone that I understand what it is like to not be able to go beyond the edges of myself and give something that cannot be given, at least not at this moment. And maybe actually never. To no one.

All I know is that for the time being, I have convinced myself that demanding and imposing myself is not even close to love. Respect and understanding, giving space and silence speak much more. So when a man on the other side of the wire receives an answer that doesn’t even cross my lips, then he knows he has a home here.

That home where people don’t even ask you where you were or what you did. Where no one is looking for explanations. Where they accept you with virtues and flaws, and where your place art the table is always waiting for you. And a person who may not love you but will shake your hand because he understands you, as probably no one else wants to understand you, because they are too busy with their own expectations of you.

Sometimes the ones you love the most, you just have to let go, so if you are truly destined, you will somehow meet somewhere.

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