After Saying Nothing
I’ve been thinking about the habit of holding back.
Not the thoughtful kind.
The other one.
The kind where you know what you want to say, but you measure the room first. You consider the mood, the timing, the possible consequences. You decide it’s easier to stay quiet, just this once.
And then just once becomes often.
At first, holding back feels responsible. It feels like maturity. Like choosing peace over proving a point. But over time, something else starts to happen. The unsaid words don’t vanish. They settle somewhere inside, waiting for a moment they may never get.