I stand among them, and I speak.
I laugh when they laugh, nod when they do,
ask questions, listen, respond—
play my part in this effortless rhythm they share.
But sometimes, in the pauses, in the breaths between words,
I wonder—if I stepped away,
if I chose silence instead of speech,
would anything change?
They have their own pieces that fit together,
their inside jokes that I hear but do not feel,
their moments that pass through me like echoes
of a song I was never taught to sing.
I am here, yes.
And yet, I am not.
It’s strange, isn’t it?
To be surrounded by voices and still feel unheard,
to stand in a circle and still feel outside it.
I talk to everyone,
but who talks to me, not out of politeness,
not out of obligation,
but out of want?
Maybe I am just a passing presence,
a shape that fills the space between,
never meant to settle, never meant to stay.
And if I walked away now,
without a word, without a sound—
would they even notice I was gone?
Would they miss me?
Or was I never truly there to begin with?
-Itinerant Soul