From the Place Where I Stayed Silent

My Dear Stranger

I feel as if I have spent my life as a watcher—quiet and unseen,

sensing and observing everything from a secret place hidden behind the shadows.

From where I stood;

In silence, I learned the language of emotions:

disappointment,

conflict,

fear,

betrayal,

injustice,

ignorance,

misery.

I have carried them all without ever raising my voice.

My Dear Stranger,

I believe nothing happens without reason.

Every step we take, every word we speak—

whether we are aware of it or not—leaves a mark.

Not only in our own lives,

but on the lives of others,

on this world we share,

On the future of the earth, we will never fully see.

From what I have witnessed,

so much pain is born from something called pride.

A pride so loud it refuses to listen.

So rigid it refuses to bend.

Pride that clings to opinion, forces belief, and sees only through its own eyes.

No pause.

No humility.

No room for another heart to enter.

No willingness to lower itself, to stop speaking, to listen—truly listen.

To stand where another stands.

To feel what another feels.

To respect what another believes.

To ask why, before insisting on being right.

To accept difference, and seek unity instead of victory.

My Dear Stranger,

I have lived inside that noise—

a silent listener in the middle of a battlefield of pride.

Voices overlapping, egos colliding,

everyone fighting to be heard,

to be right,

to be seen,

to hold their place.

As the voices grew louder, I understood something quietly:

No one can truly hear when no one is willing to stop talking.

Watching them pulled me back into memory—

to my past,

to my younger days.

A time when pride was everything to me.

The thing that defined me.

The thing I thought I had to protect at all costs.

Something I believed I would never let go of.

But then—one day—

In my darkest night, I've met Him.

He saved me, touched my heart.

He loosened my pride and softened my heart.

He gave me a new heart, a new hope, a new life,

a second chance to live.

My Dear Stranger,

I have learned that every story—

like a coin, like a dice—has more than one side.

Yet most people see only from where they stand.

From their own lens.

Their own wounds.

Their own truth.

And from that narrow place, judgment is born.

Judgment becomes habit.

Habit becomes blindness.

My Dear Stranger,

I love you for who you are.

You are beautiful.

You are already whole, already worthy, already enough—

perfect in your imperfection.

Do not change yourself to fit where you do not belong.

Do not become someone else to escape judgment.

People will always talk.

They will always compare.

Let them.

So please, give your heart a moment of rest.

Listen to what it whispers.

Give it what it needs.

Let it feel joy.

Let it feel love.

Let it fall in love—

gently, bravely—with yourself.

Written in silence,

Your stranger,

Vie