Not Known by Many Just quietly making my way through the world, minding my own business, learning to smile without asking to be seen, finding comfort in my own company while the rest of the world rushes past. Some call it loneliness. I call it surviving. There are days when silence feels like a home, and nights when it becomes an ache too heavy to carry. I have learned that a crowded room can leave a heart emptier than an empty one ever could. It hurts. Not the kind of hurt that cries out for attention, but the quiet kind— the kind that folds itself into your chest and learns your name. I was never meant to fit into every circle. I was never meant to become smaller just to make someone else's world comfortable. And perhaps that is why I often stand alone. There is a strange sorrow in watching others belong while wondering where your own place might be. Still... There is no shame in hurting. No shame in carrying invisible battles, in feeling forgotten, in wishing someone would notice without you having to ask. Some hearts bloom in crowded gardens. Others become wildflowers, growing where no one thought beauty could survive. If I never become known by many, let me at least be known by my own soul. If I never fit into the world's picture, let me become the masterpiece I was always meant to be. Because even broken hearts still beat. Even unseen people still matter. And even those who walk alone leave footprints that one day will remind someone else they were never truly alone.