Ladies of hive community contest 241: Chronicles of a Quiet Storm

If your life had a title like Netflix series, what would it be?

My photo

I am an introvert.
And oddly enough, that earns me a good reputation.
I smile a lot, warmly, gently and people often mistake that for me being soft, easygoing, and endlessly agreeable. And while I am friendly and kind, there are lines I do not let others cross. I have principles. And if those lines are ignored, we will never move beyond acquaintance. If those boundaries are disrespected, our friendship will quietly come to an end.
This makes me difficult in ways people don’t expect. I’m calm, composed, and often described as gentle but beneath that surface is a storm of conviction, emotion, and quiet intensity that doesn’t always make itself known. I protect it fiercely.

Whenever I speak with people, they often tell me how articulate I sound, how good I am at holding conversations and bringing warmth into the room. They say I’m intelligent. That I make them feel seen.
And yet, inside, I question all of it.
If I were truly that good, that articulate, wouldn’t I have become the orator I dream of being? Wouldn’t I have found a way to share my voice, my ideas, out loud and unapologetically, rather than keeping them confined to the safety of my thoughts?

There are struggles I carry that no one sees. Deep ones. Doubts. Fears. Longings. But because my outer life seems ordered and my smile rarely slips, no one suspects that there’s anything wrong.

I can remember a story I read. It was short, but it hit hard.
It was about a young man, promising, admired, the pride of his community. Everyone looked up to him. They praised his peaceful nature, his humility, his brilliance. People wanted to be like him. Parents pointed him out as a role model.
Then one day, he went home, picked up a gun, and ended his life.
That was how the story ended. Abruptly. No explanation. Just silence.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
What if he, too, was a quiet storm?
What if he carried so much inside- pressure, questions, expectations, pain and no one ever knew? What if the same things that earned him praise also trapped him in a persona he couldn’t escape from? What if he became so good at appearing okay that no one ever stopped to ask how he really was?

Sometimes I fear becoming that story.
Because people see the calm. The smile. The thoughtful words. But they don’t always see the storm.

So this writing is me choosing to speak from within it. Not for pity. Not even for help. But as a reminder to myself that being a quiet storm is not a flaw. It is a form of strength- I'd say. A different kind of intensity. One that deserves space, understanding, and maybe most of all, honesty.Because silence may look peaceful. But sometimes, it hides thunder.

Thanks for reading
Stay inspired, stay true
It's your girl @ritaetim