I've always been sensitive to others' emotions — their hesitation, restraint, joy, inner turmoil, even fleeting sadness. Yet I've never been good with words.
Whenever I try to put my feelings into words, they knot up tight in my throat, refusing to come out clearly. The emotions that surge inside me feel stiff and awkward once they reach my lips. And even when I do manage to speak, I worry whether I've expressed myself accurately, afraid that others will misunderstand. So most of the time, I stay silent.
Feeling so much is both a gift and a burden. Walking down the street, I see the delivery driver braving the scorching sun and pouring rain; I see the street cleaner pushing a cart with a broom, sweeping the city clean in the early morning; I see the workers toiling in the heat, sitting on the curb eating their packed lunches... Every time, a line comes to mind: I'm the one who feels pity, the one who stands by and watches, the one who can do nothing to help. And though my emotions stab at my heart like a sharp blade, I can't find the words for the ache I feel.
I used to believe that feelings mattered more than words — because feelings are real, while words can be deceptive. Later I came to understand that the world has never been simply black or white. No matter how real your feelings are, if you can't express them, they stay bottled up inside.
And as clumsy as words may be, they're still better than saying nothing at all — because they build a bridge, allowing our feelings to reach one another.
Day 2 of 2025
I've always been sensitive to others' emotions — their hesitation, restraint, joy, inner turmoil, even fleeting sadness. Yet I've never been good with words.
Whenever I try to put my feelings into words, they knot up tight in my throat, refusing to come out clearly. The emotions that surge inside me feel stiff and awkward once they reach my lips. And even when I do manage to speak, I worry whether I've expressed myself accurately, afraid that others will misunderstand. So most of the time, I stay silent.
Feeling so much is both a gift and a burden. Walking down the street, I see the delivery driver braving the scorching sun and pouring rain; I see the street cleaner pushing a cart with a broom, sweeping the city clean in the early morning; I see the workers toiling in the heat, sitting on the curb eating their packed lunches... Every time, a line comes to mind: I'm the one who feels pity, the one who stands by and watches, the one who can do nothing to help. And though my emotions stab at my heart like a sharp blade, I can't find the words for the ache I feel.
I used to believe that feelings mattered more than words — because feelings are real, while words can be deceptive. Later I came to understand that the world has never been simply black or white. No matter how real your feelings are, if you can't express them, they stay bottled up inside.
And as clumsy as words may be, they're still better than saying nothing at all — because they build a bridge, allowing our feelings to reach one another.