Do I suck at telling stories? I find myself asking that from time to time. Am I that boring that people feel the need to interrupt me mid-sentence just to tell a “better version” of what I’m saying?
Maybe I should go back to being the listener. You know, the quiet one they used to like. When they could only hear from me occasionally.
Because these are the same people who always complained:
> “You don’t talk much.”
“You’re always quiet.”
“Tell us something about yourself.”
“We’d like to know your thoughts…”
But now that I do share my thoughts, it’s suddenly a problem?
Here’s the thing: people change. We evolve. Back then I didn’t have much to say, so silence was easy. Now I’ve got experiences worth sharing — but apparently, they’d prefer I stay quiet.
It’s giving, “We don’t want you to experience life because then we can’t tell you you’re missing out.”
Maybe I really should stick to listening. Because these days, they cut me off before I even finish my story.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of the unknown
Non-FictionNot every story is loud. Some are quiet, messy, sarcastic, and oddly familiar. This is a diary of memories-ordinary moments, awkward encounters, laughter, heartbreak, and even crochet patterns hidden like secrets between the pages. Memories. Echoes...
