People see me and they think I’m quiet. But silence is just the armor I learned to wear when words stopped feeling safe. They say I’m calm, and maybe I am,but they don’t see the storms that live in my chest. They don’t know that I had to learn how to fold my pain into poetry because no one ever really listened when I spoke. I was just four when the world taught me that safety is a fragile thing. And since then, I’ve been building walls, not because I hate the world, but because it didn’t protect me when I needed it most. Writing became my escape. A way to scream without making a sound. To bleed without anyone seeing the wounds. To remember that even if no one understands, I do. God does. I carry so much, but I don’t like to show it. I smile so no one asks questions. I laugh so they think I’m fine. But inside, I’m just a girl trying to hold herself together long enough to matter. To make it. To heal. To help others feel less alone than I did. That’s why I write. Not because I want to be heard But because I want to speak for the ones like me, Who are breaking quietly in rooms full of noise. If you’ve ever felt like no one sees you, Let this be your sign: I do. And you’re not alone.