My Silence Comes From a Childhood That Was Read Too Soon

I’m not much of a talker, but it’s not because I’m shy or afraid to express myself. From childhood onward, whenever I looked at something and began forming a request in my mind, it would be placed in my hands before I had the chance to speak. The people around me always seemed to read my eyes ahead of time, voicing my wishes for me and giving me what I wanted. That attentive, gentle care built a childhood where words were never needed. Over time, speaking up became something unfamiliar and unnecessary. It wasn’t until I grew up that I realized no one in the adult world would always be watching my eyes or guessing what I wanted. The silence that had once been so carefully understood gradually became a barrier between me and other people. This is a story about the side effects of kindness, and about slowly coming to terms with the long silence between me and myself.