Member-only story
Silence Looks Good on Me — Who Knew?
From word-vomiting chaos to silence with a side of strategy — on a good day
I used to be a full-time verbal over-sharer with zero chill. An open book? Please. I was a live audio broadcast with bonus footnotes. If something happened to me, everyone knew — including the Uber driver, the Amazon delivery guy, and that one cousin I don’t even like.
Like the time I had a meltdown before my college interview. Huge fight with my parents. Ugly crying in the waiting room. A sweet stranger asked what was wrong — and I told her my entire life story. Not the abridged version. The full three-season binge-watch.
Plot twist: we ended up at the same college. Plot twist two: she became one of my best friends. Plot twist three: she still mocks me for unloading like a broken dam before we’d even exchanged names (You know who you are!).
At the time, I thought my honesty was endearing. Relatable. Empowering. But really, I was doing a full TED Talk when a “Yeah, tough day” would’ve worked just fine.
It didn’t happen overnight. I didn’t wake up mysterious. I evolved — slowly, painfully, one bitten tongue at a time. It started when I realised that silence was often more powerful than a perfectly worded clapback. Like when people gave me unsolicited advice…
