quiet people #

quiet people.
the ones who glow for a fleeting second
when they speak of the things that set their hearts alight,
only to dim again
when they realize no one’s listening.

laughed at
for wandering too far into their own heads,
mocked for that rare, bright moment
when something familiar lights a fire in their eyes.

told to shut up—
their excitement too loud,
their voice too much,
their interests, a burden.

home isn’t kinder.
parents wave off their passions
with half-hearted smiles or outright sneers,
calling them childish,
a waste of fucking time.
so they stop.
they stop drawing, writing, dreaming.
all that talent,
all that something,
shrinks to nothing
until it’s gone.

and then comes the doubt.
was it ever real?
did it ever matter?
their love for it twists in their chest,
a secret too heavy to share,
a light hidden under the rubble of shame.

but someday, they find it—
a space that doesn’t judge,
an online haven where strangers
cherish the very things
the real world spat on.

slowly, they let go of the world around them.
they pull away from faces they’ve known,
from voices that never cared,
choosing the quiet comfort of a screen.
because there, behind the glow of pixels,
they won’t be laughed at,
silenced,
or made small again.