Why are you so Quiet?

A poem about being quiet

“Why are you so quiet?”

The phrase echoes in my head.

I’ve heard it time and time again;

these five simple words

seemingly so innocent,

yet asked in a way

it makes me wonder

if it’s a bad thing

to be

…

quiet.

---

There was that time at school

some years ago

I said something.

The words themselves

long forgotten

but what came after

stuck forever.

“I didn’t know you could talk,”

A student remarked.

Of course, I can speak!

I screamed internally.

---

Or when I attended

a friend’s birthday party.

It was just us and one other,

a friend of hers

I’d never met before.

“Are you okay?”

She kept asking me.

Maybe it was because

I didn’t say much.

---

Similarly,

my school report cards

always contained a certain line.

“Rachel needs to participate more in class.”

The teachers kept telling me.

“Rachel is hard-working but very quiet.”

I heard it so many times.

“Rachel must learn to ask questions.”

None of it helped.

---

Then there were times

I was pinched,

kicked,

prodded,

and grabbed,

all in an attempt

to make me speak.

I would freeze.

And try to think

of something acceptable

to say.

But nothing would come.

---

I’ve never really answered the question.

People ask it over

and over

and over.

“I don’t have much to say.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m just like this.”

All answers I’ve provided

yet none of them

tell the full story.

---

Do you really want to know

why I’m so quiet?

Or are you just asking

to make conversation?

---

I never much liked

having visitors over.

But the moment I dreaded

more than any other

was after the company departed.

With the closing of a door,

smiles turned upside down

and a deep sense of shame

rose inside me.

There was always something

I failed to do.

Things I should’ve said

and didn’t.

---

I’m quiet because I’m scared.

Scared of saying the wrong thing.

Scared of how people will react.

Scared of messing things up.

Scared of myself.

And what would happen

if I spoke my mind.

---

I say things

people don’t want to hear.

I’m rude.

Inconsiderate.

Brutally honest.

Lacking common courtesy.

And I don’t care

the slightest bit

for small talk.

---

But truthfully,

I have many things to say.

Words held inside

begging to escape.

Thoughts,

opinions,

questions,

fun facts.

I’m just too scared to say them.

So afraid of hurting someone

unintentionally.

Or interrupting someone.

I stay silent.

---

Conversations are hard.

Relationships are complex.

Older people don’t like

being corrected by someone

less than half their age

even if I know

I’m right.

I don’t like all this playing pretend.

That’s what it is.

Social rules say you must pretend to care

about the feelings of someone

you just met.

And that you must pretend

to be doing well

even if you’re not.

---

I’m quiet because

people don’t like me.

I’m quiet because

I say all the wrong things.

I’m quiet because

I’m terrified of speaking

at the same time as someone else.

I’m quiet because

I’m not sure

if you’re being sarcastic.

I’m quiet because

I don’t know if you really mean

anything you’re asking

or if it’s all a show.

---

“Why are you so quiet?”

The phrase echoes in my head.

I’ve heard it time and time again;

these five simple words

seemingly so innocent,

yet asked in a way

it makes me wonder

if it’s a bad thing

to be

…

quiet.

---

I am quiet.

But not always.

There are some topics

I could talk about forever.

I am quiet.

But I am so much more.

There are things about me

that will surprise you to know.

I am quiet.

But that is not a bad thing

or something to be ashamed of.

---

“Why are you so quiet?”

someone says to me.

Why are you so loud?

I want to ask back.