Silver Vale

I used to think my voice was a curse. Every whisper I heard from others made me hide a little more until silence became my armor. People called me strange, cursed, too kind for my own good. But I kept listening — because sometimes, hidden behind the pain, I could hear the truth. Then I met him — a man whose heart was so quiet it frightened me. His silence wasn’t cruel; it was filled with stories he’d forgotten how to tell. When I looked at him, I didn’t see a fallen prince; I saw someone just as lost and longing as I was. Together we walked through fear, jealousy, and every lie the world told us about who we should be. And somewhere along that path, I realized that every whisper I’d ever heard — every voice that said I was wrong, broken, too much — was fading. Because one voice remained. Mine. . You are not too much. You are exactly enough — and those who truly see you will hear the music within your silence.