Now I Hardly Talk at All.
When I was young, I talked a lot.
Too much.
In class, I was always chatting with someone. About homework, cartoons, games, anything. If there was someone sitting next to me, I would find a reason to talk.
And of course, teachers didn’t like that.
“Kong SILENCE.”
“Pay attention.”
Somehow, I didn’t listen.
Then, during the meet-the-teacher sessions, the teacher would complain to my father.
I felt nervous at home , waiting to get punished.
Back then, I didn’t really understand why. I only knew that talking too much always led to problems.
Back then, I thought something was wrong with me.
Slowly, as I grew older, I began to change.
I started holding back.
I talked less.
I kept more things to myself.
Little by little, without noticing, I became quieter.
Then I grew up.
And one day, I realized something.
I didn’t know how to talk anymore.
Not like before.
Now, making small talk feels awkward. When I meet people, my mind goes blank. I want to say something, but nothing comes out. Or I think too much and end up saying nothing.
At gatherings, I stay quiet and scroll my phone.
With strangers, I just smile.
Sometimes I miss the old me.
The kid who didn’t care.
The kid who spoke first and thought later.
The kid who wasn’t afraid of sounding stupid.
Now, every word feels risky.
What if I say something weird?
What if they judge me?
What if I sound boring?
So I keep quiet.
It’s safer that way.
But honestly, it’s also lonely.
Because I still want to connect with people.
I still want to laugh and talk freely.
I still want to feel comfortable being myself.
Maybe growing up didn’t just make me more mature.
Maybe it made me more careful.
More self-conscious.
More afraid of mistakes.
Writing this makes me realise something.
That talkative boy is still inside me.
He’s just been silent for a long time.
Maybe it’s time I let him talk again.