Silent But Not Speechless

I am used to being the friend who listens to my friends’ stories, both happy and sad, including the trivial ones. I am really good at listening. By being a good listener (and a secret keeper), I get to know all the sides of the stories. I am aware of the happenings in my world. I just know everything there is to know. I often consider myself as the center of a Venn diagram, I am the intersection of all the circles. I am the common friend.

But I do not want to be just the common friend. I want to be the good one, if not best. Surely enough I do not have a large group of friends – I deal with each of my friends, one at a time. I am not up to those group talks which are mostly gossips. I am made for the heart-to-heart conversations, those which can make me see through their hearts and minds. It is the second best thing next to mind reading.

At the end of the day, I always ask myself if what I am doing is good enough. Then, a thought flashes through my mind. During those conversations, all I do is listen. Hey, I have stories to tell, too. Communication requires response, a response from me then. But my friends never cared to listen to my stories at all.

Can’t I be a listener and a storyteller at the same time?

But if being a good friend requires me to be silent, then I will gladly do so.


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