Do you know how many versions of myself I have buried just to be this calm? How many voices I have silenced, how many parts of me I have erased just to fit into something smaller, something quieter. Something easier to love?
I erased the one who screamed, the one who reached out with shaking hands, the one who cried too much, wanted too much, asked for too much, the one who only wanted to be seen, to be held, to be heard, to be told I was enough. And now, I am calm, I am quiet, I am soft to touch. I am gentle when I speak, I do not raise my voice, I do not break the rules, I do not ask for too much.
But inside me, there is a grave, and inside the grave, love and rage sleep side by side, buried beneath all the things I never said. Both gone, both forgotten, both lost to a world that never even knew the price I paid to be this gentle. Because no one knew how much violence it took... to be this calm.