Description

THE WEIGHT OF QUIET THINGS There comes a timewhen the noise inside youno longer asks to be heard—it settles,like dust on a long-abandoned table,patient, deliberate,unwilling to be disturbedby anything less than truth. I have reached that hour. Not the loud, reckless hourof proving something to the world,not the restless hungerthat once clawed at my ribsdemanding recognition—but the quieter reckoning,where I sit with myselfand do not look away. There is a different kind of courage here. It does not shout.It does not raise its fistsor set fire to the sky.It listens. It listens to the echoof every decisionI pretended not to