The Silent Boy

My name is Ankush. People say I am handsome and smart. They notice my looks, my calmness, my style. But no one notices the words I keep inside.

I don’t talk much. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know how. Words get stuck in my mind, and by the time I think of saying them, the moment is gone.

So, I write.

In this notebook, I write everything I wish I could say. I write about the people I want to talk to but can’t. I write about the jokes I think of but never share. I write about the feelings I have but never express.

At college, people know me but don’t really know me. They smile at me, I smile back, but that’s all. No deep conversations, no real connections. I sit in class, knowing the answers but not raising my hand. I walk through the campus, wanting to join a group but choosing to sit alone.

Today, a girl named Riya came up to me. She asked, “What are you writing?”

I wanted to tell her everything. That I write because I can’t speak. That my words are trapped on paper, waiting for someone to read them. That I wish I could be like others, laughing, talking, sharing.

But all I said was, “Just random stuff.”

She smiled. “Can I read it?”

I hesitated. No one had ever read my words before. But something about her made me want to share. Slowly, I pushed my notebook towards her.

She read. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t judge. When she looked up, she simply said, “Your words are beautiful.”

For the first time, I felt heard—without even speaking.