Faint Voice

I grew up in a warm country full of sound.

Music everywhere. Traffic that never slept. Vendors shouting the names of food on the streets like it was a personal invitation. Neighbors greeting each other, gossip traveling faster than the wind, and life happening loudly, all at once.

So when I moved to a country that was… the opposite, it was a shock to the system.

Here, people are independent. Quiet. They mind their own business. No greeting strangers. No spontaneous conversations. No unnecessary drama. Cold weather, colder personalities, at least on the surface. It took time to understand that silence here doesn’t mean unkindness; it just means space.

Do I miss where I grew up?

Absolutely.

Sometimes I catch myself wondering what if. What if I had graduated there? What if I had stayed? I think about school days filled with activities, camping on the school field, festivals, laughter, and gossiping about our crushes like it was the most important thing in the world. Those memories are warm and alive, and I treasure them deeply.

School in my new country felt different. Quieter. More structured. Less expressive. I don’t have as many fond memories from those years, not because they were bad, just because they weren’t what I was used to. Interestingly, I had more fun later, when I went to IB. It felt more open, more international. People were comfortable speaking English, curious about different cultures, and less afraid of being themselves. That helped me breathe a little easier.

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is how my personality shifts depending on where, and who, I’m with. Around people from my own background, I’m louder. I laugh freely, speak faster, take up space without thinking twice. Around locals, I’m more reserved. Quieter. Softer around the edges. Not unhappy, just different.

Do I regret moving?

No. Not really.

This move shaped me in ways staying might not have. It taught me adaptability, restraint, and how to exist between cultures without fully belonging to just one. Maybe there would have been fewer what ifs if I had stayed, but there would also be a very different version of me.

And today, I’m okay with who I am.

I carry both the noise and the quiet with me.

And somehow, they coexist just fine.