Learning to Be Seen

You’re not distant on purpose. You’re not cold, not unfeeling. You just process differently—internally, quietly, sorting through emotions in the solitude of your own mind. Expressing them feels unnatural, maybe even unsafe, like opening a door you were taught to keep locked.

So you go silent. Not to punish, not to manipulate, but because you genuinely don’t know how to let it out. Because words feel too small, too clumsy, too vulnerable. But the people who love you? They aren’t mind readers. They wait, they worry, they wonder if they should reach for you or give you space.
And even though retreating inward feels safer, real connection only happens when you let yourself be seen. Not just in your strength, but in your messiness. In your uncertainty. In the moments when you don’t have the perfect words, but you try anyway.
Because it’s not about being good at expressing feelings. It’s about trying—little by little—until silence isn’t the only language you know.