Silence wasn't peace - It was pain.

Every warrior begins in shadow.

People think silence is calm. But for a long time, my silence was filled with pain.

It was the silence of a snapped clavicle from college—shoulder locked, never healing right. It was the silence of a foot that curled in on itself, turning every step into a limp. It was the silence of a body that screamed discomfort day and night, while the world told me to “suck it up.”

But worst of all... it was the silence of being surrounded by family that never respected me. Narcissists. Twisting my words. Gaslighting my truth. Feeding off my pain. Confusing me so much that even my own reflection became a stranger.

They called it love. I called it warfare.

The pain never left, but it taught me something: To sit in the silence, and not flinch. To walk with the limp, and not hide. To breathe through the shoulder fire, and keep moving forward anyway.

That’s when I realized: Silence didn’t break me.

It built me.

They thought silence would destroy me. Instead, it taught me how to speak without a sound