Purple in the Quiet 🤍💜

[CoriC]

Even in the silence,
my mind is already decided.
A leap of faith—
the kind that feels reckless
because it asks me to trust
what I can’t explain.

Days get hardest when no one is watching.
When the mask slips
and the patterns rise to the surface
like constellations only I can see.
The world gets louder then—
but only to me.

I spent most of my life learning how to disappear
inside normal.
Smiling at the right moments.
Ignoring the details
that kept whispering, this means something.

Details you notice
until you finally say them out loud
and someone tilts their head,
calls it madness,
calls you lost,
calls you too much.

Even when I meditate.
Even when I run it out of my body.
The patterns stay.
They live in the quiet.
They tap on the inside of my ribs.
They don’t let go.

Some days it makes me want to cry
for no clear reason at all.
Some days I wonder
who you’re supposed to lean on
when your mind won’t slow down
and the world doesn’t hear what you hear.

That’s when I turn to them.
Seven voices
that somehow speak my language.
Music that doesn’t ask me to explain
how my thoughts move sideways
instead of straight.

They don’t call it crazy.
They don’t tell me to shrink.
They remind me that feeling deeply
isn’t a flaw—it’s a signal.

So I hold onto that purple thread.
Through the noise.
Through the doubt.
Through the days when believing in myself
feels harder than believing in them.

And somehow,
with their voices in my ears,
the leap feels possible.
The quiet feels survivable.
And the world—
just a little easier to process.