The quieter I become, the more I can hear.

I had a conversation with a girl two weeks ago. A heart-to-heart that made me realize that there are always two sides to a story. And on each side there is a human, just like me—living her life, trying to make her dreams come true—happy in some ways, sad in others. 

We may be different shades of melanin, might speak with a different roll of tongue. Home for her and I are two dropped pins on “a pale blue dot”. Inside, however, we are the same. 

Five years ago, when I met her first, I was aware that like oil and water our worlds rarely mixed. Perhaps, she too was aware of the difference. Despite it all, I spoke to her with my heart open and so did she.

I told her, “I have always spoken to your eyes. They tell me you will understand. She told me, “I say things to you I don’t usually tell others. Things I know you’ll get.”

We looked at each other—one soul looking into another. It was a rare symphony of intelligent minds. In those quiet moments, I found peace.

I love this girl. I always will. Whenever I meet her, her warmth is infectious. It’s a connection I rarely find. Which makes me wonder if and only if there were more friendships like the one we have.

More real conversations—where people spend time “listening” to the other side—than hogging the mic. Isn’t the world a better place when we heal the wounds of the past with love?

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