Photographs...

[Nemo]

I remember a time when things were good.

Happy.
Blissful, even.

At least, I think I do.

The more I try to look back, the less I seem to remember. It's strange, really. You'd think the good moments would be the ones that stayed with you. The moments you'd hold onto when everything else became difficult.

But they're fading.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm sure there was a time when I was full of energy. Random. Bouncy on my feet. A time when I could talk the ears off the person next to me, always having something to say, something to add, some stupid little thought that needed to escape my head.

And the smile...

God, that smile.

From ear to ear.

I don't know where that person went.

Life, I suppose.

There's been a lot of it.

A lot of experiences. A huge learning curve. One thing after another, each one seemingly pushing me forward, forcing me to grow up, perhaps faster than I ever should have had to.

Maybe that's just life.

Maybe a lot of people go through it.

I know I'm certainly not the only one. Not by a long shot.

And yet, sometimes I'll hear someone talking about their own experiences, their own struggles, and when I try to speak, I'm met with:

"Oh, you wouldn't understand."

But the thing is...

A majority of the time, I do.

I understand very well.

Perhaps better than they realise.

So I sit there.

I listen.

I observe.

I try to make sure I've understood everything properly before I say anything at all.

And then, somehow, my silence becomes the problem.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Funny, isn't it?

When I speak, apparently I don't understand.

When I don't speak, apparently there's something wrong with me.

The last time I tried to be there for someone, I got pushed to the side. Ignored. Told I didn't know anything.

Told I wouldn't understand.

And I've thought about that.

A lot.

Probably more than I should.

Sometimes it's kept me awake at night.

And there's one thought that keeps coming back.

Maybe it's because I have hearing difficulties.

Maybe sitting quietly, making sure I haven't misheard something, needing that extra moment to process what's been said...

Maybe people mistake that for something else.

Slow.

Dumb.

Stupid.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

Maybe I'm not.

That's the frustrating part.

I don't have an answer.

I just know what it feels like to constantly wonder whether the way I process the world has made other people see me differently.

And then I come back to the thing I was thinking about in the first place.

Who was I?

Because I don't remember much of that person anymore.

Not the happy parts.

Not the bubbly parts.

Not the random outbursts of laughter.

Not the person who always seemed to have something to say.

I remember that person existed.

I'm sure of it.

But the memories feel distant now, like photographs left too long in the sun.

Faded.

Was I really like that?

Or am I just remembering who I wish I had been?

And if that person really was me...

Then what does that make me now?

Am I simply older?

Wiser?

More tired?

Or am I just a shell of the person I used to be?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe that's what bothers me most.

I don't know.

 

[Kanna202]

Good massage

 

[cheetra]

I get you. Trust me you are not the only one thinking the same thing.

 

[Solara]

Reminds me of times when I used to know am just losing myself .. sucks to know the kind of person you are and then being aware of losing all of that... Hitting a low... The lowest... Feeling helpless ..

But the good part is even that feels like a fading memory now... Coz I have people watching over me.. helped me find my ground again... Helped me rise.... #blessed..

That's how life is right ... Highs and lows..

 

[Anshhi]

I remember a time when things were good.

Happy.
Blissful, even.

At least, I think I do.

The more I try to look back, the less I seem to remember. It's strange, really. You'd think the good moments would be the ones that stayed with you. The moments you'd hold onto when everything else became difficult.

But they're fading.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm sure there was a time when I was full of energy. Random. Bouncy on my feet. A time when I could talk the ears off the person next to me, always having something to say, something to add, some stupid little thought that needed to escape my head.

And the smile...

God, that smile.

From ear to ear.

I don't know where that person went.

Life, I suppose.

There's been a lot of it.

A lot of experiences. A huge learning curve. One thing after another, each one seemingly pushing me forward, forcing me to grow up, perhaps faster than I ever should have had to.

Maybe that's just life.

Maybe a lot of people go through it.

I know I'm certainly not the only one. Not by a long shot.

And yet, sometimes I'll hear someone talking about their own experiences, their own struggles, and when I try to speak, I'm met with:

"Oh, you wouldn't understand."

But the thing is...

A majority of the time, I do.

I understand very well.

Perhaps better than they realise.

So I sit there.

I listen.

I observe.

I try to make sure I've understood everything properly before I say anything at all.

And then, somehow, my silence becomes the problem.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Funny, isn't it?

When I speak, apparently I don't understand.

When I don't speak, apparently there's something wrong with me.

The last time I tried to be there for someone, I got pushed to the side. Ignored. Told I didn't know anything.

Told I wouldn't understand.

And I've thought about that.

A lot.

Probably more than I should.

Sometimes it's kept me awake at night.

And there's one thought that keeps coming back.

Maybe it's because I have hearing difficulties.

Maybe sitting quietly, making sure I haven't misheard something, needing that extra moment to process what's been said...

Maybe people mistake that for something else.

Slow.

Dumb.

Stupid.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

Maybe I'm not.

That's the frustrating part.

I don't have an answer.

I just know what it feels like to constantly wonder whether the way I process the world has made other people see me differently.

And then I come back to the thing I was thinking about in the first place.

Who was I?

Because I don't remember much of that person anymore.

Not the happy parts.

Not the bubbly parts.

Not the random outbursts of laughter.

Not the person who always seemed to have something to say.

I remember that person existed.

I'm sure of it.

But the memories feel distant now, like photographs left too long in the sun.

Faded.

Was I really like that?

Or am I just remembering who I wish I had been?

And if that person really was me...

Then what does that make me now?

Am I simply older?

Wiser?

More tired?

Or am I just a shell of the person I used to be?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe that's what bothers me most.

I don't know.

Powerful and aching read... somewhere along the road of growing older, our joyful smiles quietly fade without us ever realizing it.

 

[Dom55]

I remember a time when things were good.

Happy.
Blissful, even.

At least, I think I do.

The more I try to look back, the less I seem to remember. It's strange, really. You'd think the good moments would be the ones that stayed with you. The moments you'd hold onto when everything else became difficult.

But they're fading.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm sure there was a time when I was full of energy. Random. Bouncy on my feet. A time when I could talk the ears off the person next to me, always having something to say, something to add, some stupid little thought that needed to escape my head.

And the smile...

God, that smile.

From ear to ear.

I don't know where that person went.

Life, I suppose.

There's been a lot of it.

A lot of experiences. A huge learning curve. One thing after another, each one seemingly pushing me forward, forcing me to grow up, perhaps faster than I ever should have had to.

Maybe that's just life.

Maybe a lot of people go through it.

I know I'm certainly not the only one. Not by a long shot.

And yet, sometimes I'll hear someone talking about their own experiences, their own struggles, and when I try to speak, I'm met with:

"Oh, you wouldn't understand."

But the thing is...

A majority of the time, I do.

I understand very well.

Perhaps better than they realise.

So I sit there.

I listen.

I observe.

I try to make sure I've understood everything properly before I say anything at all.

And then, somehow, my silence becomes the problem.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Funny, isn't it?

When I speak, apparently I don't understand.

When I don't speak, apparently there's something wrong with me.

The last time I tried to be there for someone, I got pushed to the side. Ignored. Told I didn't know anything.

Told I wouldn't understand.

And I've thought about that.

A lot.

Probably more than I should.

Sometimes it's kept me awake at night.

And there's one thought that keeps coming back.

Maybe it's because I have hearing difficulties.

Maybe sitting quietly, making sure I haven't misheard something, needing that extra moment to process what's been said...

Maybe people mistake that for something else.

Slow.

Dumb.

Stupid.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

Maybe I'm not.

That's the frustrating part.

I don't have an answer.

I just know what it feels like to constantly wonder whether the way I process the world has made other people see me differently.

And then I come back to the thing I was thinking about in the first place.

Who was I?

Because I don't remember much of that person anymore.

Not the happy parts.

Not the bubbly parts.

Not the random outbursts of laughter.

Not the person who always seemed to have something to say.

I remember that person existed.

I'm sure of it.

But the memories feel distant now, like photographs left too long in the sun.

Faded.

Was I really like that?

Or am I just remembering who I wish I had been?

And if that person really was me...

Then what does that make me now?

Am I simply older?

Wiser?

More tired?

Or am I just a shell of the person I used to be?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe that's what bothers me most.

I don't know.

Trust me you aint slow. dumb or stupid. Whatever thoughts come up to your mind is a sign of you being 100% alive. Its far better then few walking dead. You narrated yourself how bias people are who questioned your intelligence of talking and same people questioned your silence. So, no one can explain you better , whose fault is . You know better to be yourself. As people around dont miss any opportunity to change you to someone else. The best version of you is your current version chosen 100% by yourself. I cant resist to add one thing . I saw movie era of black and white movie, where dialogue is ' people of earlier days were way better. Same way , most of us always being bias thinking our earlier days were best . I firmly disagree. Our best days are now and today . Just live n enjoy current moment whole heartedly. Ty for your this article , because of it ,after many days our friend @Solara show her existence here.

 

[janesays]

I remember a time when things were good.

Happy.
Blissful, even.

At least, I think I do.

The more I try to look back, the less I seem to remember. It's strange, really. You'd think the good moments would be the ones that stayed with you. The moments you'd hold onto when everything else became difficult.

But they're fading.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm sure there was a time when I was full of energy. Random. Bouncy on my feet. A time when I could talk the ears off the person next to me, always having something to say, something to add, some stupid little thought that needed to escape my head.

And the smile...

God, that smile.

From ear to ear.

I don't know where that person went.

Life, I suppose.

There's been a lot of it.

A lot of experiences. A huge learning curve. One thing after another, each one seemingly pushing me forward, forcing me to grow up, perhaps faster than I ever should have had to.

Maybe that's just life.

Maybe a lot of people go through it.

I know I'm certainly not the only one. Not by a long shot.

And yet, sometimes I'll hear someone talking about their own experiences, their own struggles, and when I try to speak, I'm met with:

"Oh, you wouldn't understand."

But the thing is...

A majority of the time, I do.

I understand very well.

Perhaps better than they realise.

So I sit there.

I listen.

I observe.

I try to make sure I've understood everything properly before I say anything at all.

And then, somehow, my silence becomes the problem.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Funny, isn't it?

When I speak, apparently I don't understand.

When I don't speak, apparently there's something wrong with me.

The last time I tried to be there for someone, I got pushed to the side. Ignored. Told I didn't know anything.

Told I wouldn't understand.

And I've thought about that.

A lot.

Probably more than I should.

Sometimes it's kept me awake at night.

And there's one thought that keeps coming back.

Maybe it's because I have hearing difficulties.

Maybe sitting quietly, making sure I haven't misheard something, needing that extra moment to process what's been said...

Maybe people mistake that for something else.

Slow.

Dumb.

Stupid.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

Maybe I'm not.

That's the frustrating part.

I don't have an answer.

I just know what it feels like to constantly wonder whether the way I process the world has made other people see me differently.

And then I come back to the thing I was thinking about in the first place.

Who was I?

Because I don't remember much of that person anymore.

Not the happy parts.

Not the bubbly parts.

Not the random outbursts of laughter.

Not the person who always seemed to have something to say.

I remember that person existed.

I'm sure of it.

But the memories feel distant now, like photographs left too long in the sun.

Faded.

Was I really like that?

Or am I just remembering who I wish I had been?

And if that person really was me...

Then what does that make me now?

Am I simply older?

Wiser?

More tired?

Or am I just a shell of the person I used to be?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe that's what bothers me most.

I don't know.

This is beautiful Nemo. It made me cry, and laugh thinking it sounds like something I would say too

 

[AARADHYAA❤️]

Maybe you didn’t lose the person you used to be. Maybe life just taught that person to speak a little less and notice a little more.

I remember a time when things were good.

Happy.
Blissful, even.

At least, I think I do.

The more I try to look back, the less I seem to remember. It's strange, really. You'd think the good moments would be the ones that stayed with you. The moments you'd hold onto when everything else became difficult.

But they're fading.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm sure there was a time when I was full of energy. Random. Bouncy on my feet. A time when I could talk the ears off the person next to me, always having something to say, something to add, some stupid little thought that needed to escape my head.

And the smile...

God, that smile.

From ear to ear.

I don't know where that person went.

Life, I suppose.

There's been a lot of it.

A lot of experiences. A huge learning curve. One thing after another, each one seemingly pushing me forward, forcing me to grow up, perhaps faster than I ever should have had to.

Maybe that's just life.

Maybe a lot of people go through it.

I know I'm certainly not the only one. Not by a long shot.

And yet, sometimes I'll hear someone talking about their own experiences, their own struggles, and when I try to speak, I'm met with:

"Oh, you wouldn't understand."

But the thing is...

A majority of the time, I do.

I understand very well.

Perhaps better than they realise.

So I sit there.

I listen.

I observe.

I try to make sure I've understood everything properly before I say anything at all.

And then, somehow, my silence becomes the problem.

"Why are you so quiet?"

Funny, isn't it?

When I speak, apparently I don't understand.

When I don't speak, apparently there's something wrong with me.

The last time I tried to be there for someone, I got pushed to the side. Ignored. Told I didn't know anything.

Told I wouldn't understand.

And I've thought about that.

A lot.

Probably more than I should.

Sometimes it's kept me awake at night.

And there's one thought that keeps coming back.

Maybe it's because I have hearing difficulties.

Maybe sitting quietly, making sure I haven't misheard something, needing that extra moment to process what's been said...

Maybe people mistake that for something else.

Slow.

Dumb.

Stupid.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

Maybe I'm not.

That's the frustrating part.

I don't have an answer.

I just know what it feels like to constantly wonder whether the way I process the world has made other people see me differently.

And then I come back to the thing I was thinking about in the first place.

Who was I?

Because I don't remember much of that person anymore.

Not the happy parts.

Not the bubbly parts.

Not the random outbursts of laughter.

Not the person who always seemed to have something to say.

I remember that person existed.

I'm sure of it.

But the memories feel distant now, like photographs left too long in the sun.

Faded.

Was I really like that?

Or am I just remembering who I wish I had been?

And if that person really was me...

Then what does that make me now?

Am I simply older?

Wiser?

More tired?

Or am I just a shell of the person I used to be?

I honestly don't know.

Maybe that's what bothers me most.

I don't know.