I wanted someone who could tell the difference in my quiet

Dear Delyara, There are many kinds of quiet in me. Ordinary quiet. Thinking quiet. Tired quiet. Bruised quiet. The kind that means I don’t know how to say it yet. The kind that means please don’t make me explain too quickly. I wanted someone this week who could hear the difference. That kind of being-known feels rarer the older I get. And I think that’s why loneliness now feels less like emptiness and more like imprecision in the company available to me.