Photo by:https://unsplash.com/s/photos/Atlas-holds-the-weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders
There are days when you want to scream the most — but you have no voice. Or no audience. Or you simply learned that some things are not meant to be said out loud. So you whisper instead. To yourself, into your coffee, into your keyboard while thinking whether it’s smart to say what you really feel.
Those quiet screams are the loudest ones.
I remember when my phone rang while I was coming back from grocery shopping. Bags in my hands, tired, just another ordinary day. A voice said: “Drop everything and come to the interview.” I didn’t think twice. I left the bags at the first store I saw and went. I didn’t shout. I didn’t celebrate. I just quietly screamed inside — and that was enough. I got the job.
Then came a heavier moment. My mother’s funeral. No voice. No tears coming out. I stood there, offering drinks to people, pretending to be strong, polite, composed. Everything inside me was silent — too silent. Like grief was locked somewhere deep where even I couldn’t reach it. Later, it caught up with me. My body spoke what I couldn’t. I ended up at the doctor.
And then life turns again.
When my son was born, tears came naturally. But still, I didn’t shout. Happiness stayed inside, like a quiet flame. When my daughter was born, the same. Maybe because just two days before that I had a car accident — a strong collision we somehow walked away from. It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to think, let alone shout.
And I keep asking — what is it in a human that doesn’t let the voice out?
Maybe a thought, heavy like lead. Maybe a burden like carrying the whole world on your back. Maybe fear that if we let it out once — everything will follow, and we won’t be able to stop it.
So we whisper.
But that is still a voice. Just a different one.
So write it down. Let it out, even quietly. Because silence echoes too.