Growing up in a home with both parents, I always felt a deep need to express myself. My mom understood me—she saw the spark behind my endless questions. But my dad? Not so much. He didn’t understand why I asked so many things. To him, it felt like noise. To me, it was the beginning of understanding.
I wasn’t trying to be nosy. I was trying to learn. I wanted to understand why people thought the way they did, why they reacted the way they did, and what shaped their choices. Over time, I realized that every experience a person goes through becomes a lens through which they see the world. That lens influences how they respond, how they love, how they protect, and how they communicate.
Even now, I ask questions—not to pry, but to connect. To understand. To grow.
But when words failed me in conversation, I found another way to speak: writing. Writing became my sanctuary. It gave me a voice when I felt unheard. It gave me clarity when the world felt confusing. And most beautifully, it connected me to others who feel the same way—those who may not write, but who find comfort in reading.
Writing is more than just words on a page. It’s a bridge. A mirror. A healing space.
So to anyone who’s ever felt misunderstood for being curious, for feeling deeply, or for needing to express themselves—know that you’re not alone. There’s power in your voice. And if you ever feel like speaking is too much, try writing. You might just find yourself there.
Inside the mind of cree 