Who Are You When Nothing Is Watching?
There is a version of me that only appears in silence. It is not the version that answers messages, explains decisions, performs competence, or adjusts its expression to make other people comfortable. It does not need to be interesting. It does not need to be useful. It is simply there. I do not always know what to do with that version of myself. When the noise disappears, I often reach for something to replace it—a screen, a task, a conversation, even a problem to solve. Anything that keeps me from sitting too long with the person underneath all the roles. Maybe silence frightens us because it removes the audience. Without an audience, there is no reaction to measure. No approval to earn. No one to reassure us that we are doing life correctly. There is only the unedited self. The self that may be tired without a reason. Sad without a clean explanation. Restless despite having everything it was told to want. The self that remembers what the public version has learned to avoid. Silence ...