When I was younger I was always quiet, no sounds, no noises.

He would tell me not to tell anyone.

I screamed on paper as the paper became wet. The paper became my best friend.

Time went on and writing 

became no longer.

Anxiety became stronger.

As I screamed at people instead of paper, they didn't understand me because i didn't understand myself.

Today, June twentieth two-thousand eighteen I understand myself once again.

Hello my old friend.

No tears, no anxiety, just the understanding of myself.

No sound, but so loud.