I woke up one morning and realized I could hear everyone’s inner voice. At first, I thought something was wrong with me. But then I heard my cat think, Finally, she’s up. My food bowl is empty.
I stood still, heart racing. I wasn’t dreaming.
When I went outside, things got even stranger. As I walked past my neighbor, I heard, I hope she didn’t notice the broken fence. But he just smiled and waved like everything was normal.
At the bus stop, I heard a boy thinking, I forgot my homework again. A woman nearby was wondering if she had left the stove on. No one said a word out loud, but their thoughts filled my head.
At school, it was even harder. I heard my teacher thinking about her sick mother. I heard my classmates worrying about tests, friendships, and fears they never said out loud.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Everyone had so much going on inside, and no one ever showed it. I learned things I never wanted to know—or feel.
That night, I lay in bed and wished I could go back to the way things were.
Sometimes, not knowing is a kind of kindness.
Sometimes, silence is better.