Silence: The Loudest Sound of All

As a child, I was always labeled as the “talkative” one. My mind, so eager to share the ideas it had proudly created, caused my mouth to never stop moving. This got me in trouble at times, but it was always the same- such a bright young boy, love his spirit, etc. etc. etc. Even when I hit the lowest point of my childhood at the age of 11, causing me to go on medication to improve my mental health, I was still talking talking talking. While my mind was dark, it was still bustling with life, albeit a little less than usual. I switched schools (by my own decision,) changed my life, and improved. The childhood innocence was back, talking talking talking. I made a reputation for myself as the loud, outgoing leader. I made many friends easily due to my ease of conversation. And for many years, I was thriving. Then, all of a sudden, I wasn’t.
   The once-bubbly, full of life me has been replaced by someone who doesn’t care whether they have 1 or 100 friends. I pretend to be fine at school, then I lock myself in my room for days, just trying to make sense of it all. I don’t even know who I am anymore, the mask of happiness I wear at school, or the empty boy who comes out in the lonely hours of the night? While I might seem content, my mind is racing with impatient thoughts. I feel so alone, not because I lack in friends but because no one, not even me, knows my true self. The times in which my brooding, silent self comes out at school is when I feel most vulnerable, like someone will find out a secret about me.
  I don’t feel comfortable saying how I feel. My teachers, who are lovely people (which I am so grateful for), do weekly check-ins on how everyone is generally doing. Why would the super hyper, talkative student not be fine? I don’t know. I used to cry, used to sit in front of my mirror, asking myself who am I? Now, I can’t even feel anything. I don’t laugh genuinely, all of my smiles are forced. I don’t get scared or even sad anymore. I’m not looking for attention, because apart from this, I’ve never actually told anyone or anything this, not even my journal. I am too scared to repeat my former mistakes, to overshare and have it escalate into something that it shouldn’t be escalated to.
   I just want someone to notice. Notice when I’m not laughing at a joke I should laugh at. Notice the ease in which I am able to isolate myself. I want someone to notice my occasional silence. That is when I am most me. When I am sitting alone at the lunch table, uninterested in what used to draw me in and rile me up, that is what I want someone to notice. Even though I talk, it’s not because I want to. It is what is expected of me. So, even though it is occasional, notice my silence.