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If My Thoughts Could Speak
People think silence means peace.
They're wrong.
Silence is where thoughts learn to scream.
Every day I smiled, laughed, and answered, "I'm fine." But inside my mind, thousands of voices fought to be heard. I buried them one by one, believing forgotten thoughts eventually died.
They didn't.
At midnight, I woke to whispering.
"Finally... she can hear us."
I searched my room. Nothing.
Then the mirror smiled before I did.
"We've been trapped in your head for years," it whispered. "Every fear you ignored. Every dream you abandoned. Every tear you refused to cry."
The walls began speaking.
"I remember when you wanted to become a writer."
"I remember when you almost gave up."
"I remember every time you pretended to be strong."
The voices weren't monsters.
They were my own thoughts.
Each one wore a face I had forgotten—my younger self, my broken self, my hopeful self.
"I kept you alive," I whispered.
"No," they replied together.
"We kept you alive."
The room fell silent.
When morning arrived, the whispers disappeared.
But before the last voice faded, it said something I will never forget.
"The most dangerous thoughts are not the ones that speak... but the ones that never get the chance."
Since that night, I write.
Because if my thoughts ever stop speaking...
...someone else might start.
The End
46Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsJF5PVwCkq
46Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIPb3bE6NIH
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