I'm not the quiet one you had in mind
I’ve seen that girl, I’ve seen her kind,
Has nothing to say, does not stand out
A background character, in other people’s noise
Oh my… that poor lost soul
But I’m not the quiet one you had in mind
I’m not the quiet one you had in mind
The one who chooses not to speak, or perhaps lacks the courage
The one who hides behind a book, because of the weight of reality
Too easy to ignore, since she never interrupts
Shy and unsure of herself
But I'm not the quiet one you had in mind
I’m not the quiet one you had in mind
But I’ve known her, oh I’ve known her well
The girl who's hiding from the spotlight, hoping it will pass her by
The one who's often right, but fears that shes wrong
Never the problem, never the priority
Staying out of drama by staying out of sight
Thank god shes the harmless kind
But I'm not the quiet one you had in mind
I'm that other quiet one
The one who lives just up in the trees
Close enough to see the world for what it is, yet far enough to breathe
The one who chooses to listen and to observe, way before the choice of speaking
That other one
The one who's calm, not small
The one who’s selective, not afraid
Creative, but not lost
That other quiet one
The observer,
Moving slower, growing closer
The presence
The girl with a packed schedule
The overthinker during tests
The one who manages her stress, until it is unmanageable
The one whos learning to be human
The one who keeps going anyway
I'm all of these
And they are me
Well, shame on you for thinking shallow
For judging on my lowered gaze
Your misreads, just a mirror of your shadow self
For using me to better your own stance, while curling up to me for reassurance
You mistake my silence for weakness,
While in reality, the depth is ocean deep
Sometimes it means attentiveness
Sometimes it means meditation
Sometimes it means learning
And sometimes it's not even me you see
And just because you were too busy in your mind and body
You never had the chance to see me, to hear me
You never had the chance to merge with me
And, one night
When the moon is full, and a wolf is heard
You may wonder what it was like to know me
But don't feel sorry for yourself
Perhaps, it was never meant to be
I am not the quiet one you had in mind
I can’t be,
I will never be.
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 2:13 PM UTC
It was taken many years ago
At first it seems to be a little me :
blended with warm light and shadows,
reflecting my silhouette
then, as you scan
it, you can see the moment is no longer ordinary, a thing that is like a flame of a wish being caught in the moment
and, in the center, on a cold stone counter
what ought to be a celebration, a special wish, a birthday cake.
In the frame there is a kitchen, and beyond that, is a cozy home, in which a child is collecting memories, experiencing an evolving.
(The photograph was taken
the day after I dreamt for the last time as a two year-old.
I am in my ***** fit, immersed in the moment completely, just above the cake I made, within my mother’s beaming heart.
It is difficult to say where
precisely, or to say
how present in the moment I am:
the effect of memory on time is a distortion.
but if you look long enough
eventually
you will see me.)
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 2:11 PM UTC
I am from cold rinks and early mornings,
from spins and jumps before sunrises.
I am from the scrape of blades on ice,
the process of falling, and the ice beneath my knees.
I am from getting back up, and practice makes perfect.
I am from rain and sunshine,
and the stars through the trees.
I am from my mother’s laugh
(“A little rain won’t hurt you”)
I am from walks to the river,
to walks to the forest.
I am from mango trees,
with a sweet summer breeze,
the feel of paper,
lost in a book.
I am from the pages filled with beautiful worlds,
that live in my mind.
I am from tears and laughter and happily ever after.
I am from boardwalks and hotels on little coloured squares,
with colourful paper money and a small shiny cat.
I am from vegan meatball pasta,
and I always want more Parmesan.
I am from stress and dedication,
and the joy of the job well done.
I am from making things perfect,
even when it's not worth it.
I am from visiting grandparents in Ukraine,
comfort and love flowing through my veins.
I am from my grandparents’ beautiful kitchen,
which is always in wonderful condition.
I am from icing and flour,
dough rising for an hour.
I am from daisies and pine needles,
and hazy days in fading rays.
I am from all those moments,
memories and experiences,
that make me me,
a part of the family tree,
evolving and growing,
step by step,
moment by moment.
Feb 3
Feb 3, 2026 at 2:10 PM UTC
I remember when
My friends were jealous of my dresses,
Dresses that were iridescent, bright, and vivid summery colours,
Of jewelry that would shine the brightest,
With mood color-changing stone at its finest,
And of toys,
A book, a doll, a drum, a ball.
And I remember
the ability to forgive,
Oh how easy it was, just (“forgive and forget.”)
The sweet innocence, that would never need to regret
I remember believing, deep in my heart
That love was real, and I do truly feel.
A dream, a surreal-like emotion, outside of this world
I remember feeling,
Feeling so, so strongly,
To the point of feeling solely lonely
Of not sharing the same type of envy of fashion or passion,
But of seeing their fathers coming to pick them up,
Lifting them up to their shoulders, and oh, it felt like heaven to me.
If only I could live that moment.
A soft aching pain in my heart, that was there from the start.
I remember coming home,
And hiding that feeling away,
Anyway, who needs toxicity every day?
Oh, it would overwhelm me,
Consume me to the point where tears would drown me.
And I remember my mother’s voice,
Telling me I was not alone,
Her voice calm and steady,
Holding me close.
And though she was right,
The meaning of words acts weaker than that of actions,
The silent absence of a father figure, a constant reminder.
I remember crying,
Of feeling the embarrassment, but calling it selfishness.
Of trying to get rid of it, to stop feeling it, to be strong,
When perhaps all I needed was to accept the want of a father’s protection.
Oh, how I hate myself for hoping, for looking up at a shooting star and wishing,
That this love I see, could cease me in another life.
That im the girl who sits on a father's shoulders,
That I’m the girl overlooking the world through rose-colored glasses
That I’m the girl who's picked up and spun in a circle.
That im the girl who makes her father a card for Father’s Day, laughing and giggling for hours.
That im the girl who gets this.
And so we may grow apart in this life,
And we may not speak for weeks, months, or even years.
So we go our separate ways, and I learn to be a human.
I learn to keep growing through life and not hurting.
I didn’t make a sound, not a single complaint.
I had already learned,
What leaving looks like.
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 11:36 PM UTC