People often ask me what silence feels like.
I wish I could tell them it's peaceful. That it's calm and comforting, like the world pausing just for me. But silence isn't empty. It's full... of thoughts I never say, words I'll never hear, and feelings louder than anything sound could ever carry.
Growing up with silence taught me to listen in different ways. To read lips, to watch eyes, to feel vibrations of laughter through fingertips pressed on tables. People think hearing is about sound, but to me, it has always been about connection. And connection is something I've always struggled to find.
I used to believe that love had a voice-that I would recognize it if only I could hear it. Looking back now, I realize I was wrong. The loudest feeling I've ever known came without a single word.😊
But that part of the story hasn't begun yet soo let me take you back to where everything started, how this silent world of mine was fill with beautiful sounds i never knew existed.
Today is where it starts.
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This morning, I put on my hearing aid with steady hands. Not because it helps me hear much-it doesn't, not really-but because it reminds me to try. To keep standing in a world that moves too fast, speaks too loud, and forgets to slow down long enough to notice the quiet ones.
I tucked a blank notebook into my bag. It's the one I use when I need to speak. My words don't come through voice, but through pen strokes-neatly written sentences that carry everything my lips struggle to express.
Before leaving, I looked at myself in the mirror and mouthed three words.
"You'll be okay" .
I didn't hear them. But I felt them.
---
I took a deep breath and stepped out of my room.
Warm light spilled through the hallway window, painting the wooden floor in soft gold. The scent of toasted bread and brewing tea drifted through our small home. Morning here wasn't noisy-it was gentle. Familiar. Safe.
I walked downstairs and found my family in the kitchen. My mother was slicing fruit, my father reading the morning newspaper, and my little brother scrolling on his phone.
They noticed me instantly.
My mother smiled and signed, "Good morning, sweetheart."
I signed back, "Morning." She placed a small plate in front of me-toast, strawberries, and a note scribbled beside it: "First day! You've got this."
My father raised his mug and signed, "Proud of you."
My brother gave a casual thumbs-up, then signed jokingly, "Don't scare people with your serious face."
I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed silently. Moments like these-the ones filled with quiet gestures and warm glances-are the ones I carry with me the longest.
Once I finished breakfast,
My phone buzzed.
Lila: I'm outside. Ready?
I walked to the front door. Before I could reach for the handle, my mom opened it for me.
And there she was.
Lila stood outside on the doorstep, smiling the moment our eyes met. Without hesitation, she signed with playful excitement,
"You look pretty! Ready for your first day?"
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and signed back,
"Not sure about ready... but I'm here."
Lila grinned and added, "Good enough. Let's go before you overthink it."
My mom laughed silently at that one and signed to both of us, "Take care. And enjoy today."
I hugged her one last time, then stepped outside.
The morning air was cool, and Lila walked beside me, hands moving animatedly as she signed updates about the upcoming classes, gossip, and warnings about strict professors. I couldn't hear her laughter, but I felt its rhythm in the way her hands moved quickly and her eyes sparkled.
---
When we reached the campus building, I paused at the entrance, inhaling slowly.
New faces. New voices. New everything.
Lila nudged me gently.
"You'll be fine." she signed.
I nodded again, this time not just for her-but for myself.
---
I entered the lecture hall and walked to the front. The room buzzed with energy, conversations overlapping in sounds I couldn't make out. I placed my bag down and took my seat next to Lila.
Around me, students chatted, laughed, and introduced themselves.
I couldn't hear their words.
But I felt the moment.
And somehow, I knew... something was about to change.
To be continued...