In the Quiet, I Bloom❤️

There was a time when I used to question myself—why I didn’t enjoy loud places, why I felt drained after being around too many people, why I found more comfort in trees than in crowded rooms. Everyone around me seemed so full of noise and laughter, so outgoing, as if that was the only way to belong.

But slowly, I started listening to my own silence. I began to understand that I wasn’t made for constant chatter—I was made for still mornings, rustling leaves, soft petals pressed between pages, and small, honest moments. I started seeing plants not just as greenery, but as companions. I smiled when a bird sat near me, or when a caterpillar crawled over my hand as if we’d known each other.

And maybe I don’t have a lot of human friends—but the ones I have, they matter deeply. They understand the quiet side of me. They know I don’t always speak much, but when I do, it comes from the heart.

I often think about how I loved biology as a child. I’d stare at diagrams, fascinated by life’s tiny workings. Somehow, that part of me stayed alive—in how I name the flowers I find, how I press leaves and keep them like secrets, how I observe little creatures with childlike wonder. I’m slowly weaving those unlived dreams back into my days.

It took time, but I’ve made peace with who I am—an introvert who finds connection in nature, in the written word, in soft friendships that don’t demand too much. I’ve realised I don’t have to be louder to matter. I just have to be true. And in this quiet life, I’ve found something real.