It started quietly. At first, I thought it was just my imagination. But then I realized—I could hear them. Not their spoken words, but their inner voices. The silent thoughts, the fears, the hopes they never say out loud. I could hear them all.In crowded places, it’s overwhelming. So many people, each carrying doubts, dreams, regrets. Some voices are loud with pain, others soft with wonder. Most are just trying to be heard—by themselves.It’s a gift and a burden. I see behind masks. I know when someone is smiling but breaking inside. I try to help when I can, even with a small word or kind gesture.But the hardest part? Many don’t even hear their own voice. So I listen, quietly, respectfully. I carry their truths in my heart.Because sometimes, all someone needs—is to be heard. But the next morning my ability was gone . I was a little sad that my ability was gone . See you in another blog and ım mahmud