I Don’t Speak; I Think

I am quiet because I am thinking. Not silent because I have nothing to say, but because I’m busy sorting through the thoughts swirling in my head. You might call it overthinking—I call it strategic. In a world that rewards quick answers, I prefer to sit back and let the thoughts simmer before I serve them.

I smile because I see what you don’t see. It’s not about keeping secrets; it’s about seeing the layers that others miss. Maybe it’s the irony, the humor, or the subtle absurdities that slip past unnoticed. Whatever it is, that smile isn’t random—it’s my way of acknowledging that life is funnier than most people give it credit for.

I am disinterested because my intelligence is being insulted. Let’s be honest: not all conversations are worth engaging in. When the dialogue lacks depth, or when it becomes clear that no real thought went into the words, my mind checks out. It’s not rudeness—it’s self-preservation. My brain has standards.

I don’t speak because I think. And when I do speak, it’s because I’ve sifted through the noise and found something worth sharing. Until then, I’ll be sitting here, quiet but not absent, thinking more than you know.