You know that feeling when you’re in the middle of a group discussion, you have the perfect idea, you say it out loud—and somehow, everyone conveniently decides they’re either deaf or uninterested? Only for someone else to say the exact same thing five minutes later, and suddenly it’s revolutionary. Yeah, same.
Maybe I didn’t say it confidently enough. Maybe my opinion wasn’t good after all. Maybe I’m just… not meant to be heard
It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Fighting to have your voice heard, only to feel like you are screaming into a void. Not that you are quiet or unsure—you’re right. But somehow, in a world overflowing with noise, where everyone’s desperate to have the last word, being right isn’t enough. You need a megaphone, a spotlight, and apparently, an army of people backing you up just to get noticed.
The World’s Greatest Listener (Just Kidding)
We live in a world where everyone talks, but nobody listens. Social media is the worst offender—everyone’s shouting into the void, convinced their take on politics, relationships, or what’s “cringe” is the one true gospel. But when it’s your turn to speak, the room suddenly falls silent—not out of awe, but indifference.
It’s easy to start doubting yourself. Maybe I didn’t say it confidently enough. Maybe my opinion wasn’t good after all. Maybe I’m just… not meant to be heard. That spiral is familiar, isn’t it? The kind that leaves you feeling smaller every time.
And you hate it. You hate who you are becoming. You hate that… solitude.
But here’s the thing—they’re not ignoring you because you’re wrong. They’re ignoring you because the world has trained us to value volume over substance. Being loud gets attention, while being thoughtful gets lost in the shuffle.
The Silence That Speaks Volumes
There’s this constant battle between knowing you have something important to say and feeling like your voice has no weight. You raise your hand in class, share a great idea in a group project, or even stand up for something you believe in, but it’s like the room collectively decides to pretend you don’t exist. Yeah, it hurts.
And the worst part is when it slowly begins to feel so normal, you start questioning yourself instead. Why even bother? No one listens anyway
And It’s not just the noise that gets to you—it’s the silence that follows. That empty, deafening space where you realize, once again, that your words didn’t land. That your voice didn’t cut through. And the worst part is when it slowly begins to feel so normal you start questioning yourself instead. Why even bother? No one listens anyway. Maybe it’s better to let someone else take the floor. Maybe it’s safer to sit quietly in the background.
But it’s not safer, is it?
Because every time you stay quiet, you lose a little piece of yourself. And you can feel it—the sting of biting your tongue, the ache of shrinking into some sort of version of yourself that barely takes up any space. You feel it every time you leave a conversation wishing you had just spoken up, every time your ideas stay locked in your head because you are afraid they’ll be dismissed. You start believing that maybe you don’t even deserve to be heard. After all, if no one listens, maybe it’s not them—maybe it’s you.
And you hate it. You hate who you are becoming. You hate that… solitude.
When They Don’t See You
You sit there, watching people speak over you, or worse, around you, and it feels like you don’t even exist.
You start noticing the little things: the way their eyes shift, how they lean towards someone else the moment you start talking, the half-hearted nods that scream, “Can you wrap this up so we can move on?”
It’s not just frustrating—it’s humiliating. You could be sitting right there, smack in the middle of the crowd, yet you feel miles away. Alone, in a sea of people too busy yelling their own stories to hear yours.
The Wrong Kind of Loud
And the irony is, the people who are heard aren’t always the ones with something worthwhile to say. You’ve seen it happen—someone chimes in with half a thought, drenched in overconfidence, and suddenly everyone’s nodding like they just unlocked the secrets of the universe. Meanwhile, your well-thought-out point barely registered.
It’s infuriating. You want to shake them and scream, “Do you even hear what you are agreeing with?!” But you don’t. Because that’s not you. You don’t want attention for the sake of attention. You just want to be valued for what you bring to the table.
And honestly, that’s the toughest part. Knowing you could be louder, more assertive, maybe even borderline obnoxious—but choosing not to. Because being heard shouldn’t come at the cost of who you are.
The Fight Against Shrinking
You may feel that it’s easier to just stay quiet. Why waste your energy? Why risk the hurt? But here’s the thing: you don’t get any less hurt. And the world? It has enough noise already. What it needs is people like you.
People who think before they speak.
People who bring depth over display.
People who know that being loud doesn’t always mean being right.
Because every time you speak, you are making space for yourself. You’re reminding the world—and maybe even yourself—that you’re here, that YOU EXIST, and that YOU REFUSE TO DISAPPEAR.
It’s tempting to give up, to let the noise win. But every time you choose to stay silent, you are not just letting them drown you out—you are letting them decide what matters. And let’s be real, they don’t always get it right.
Standing Tall Anyway
So, you keep going. Not because it’s easy, but because you have something to say. And even if the world doesn’t always hear you. Even when it feels pointless. Even when it feels like screaming into a void.
Speak anyway.
Raise your hand in class, even if they glance over you.
Share your ideas, even if the credit lands elsewhere.
Stand up for what’s right, even if it feels like no one’s backing you up.
Because every time you speak, you are making space for yourself. You’re reminding the world—and maybe even yourself—that you’re here, that YOU EXIST, and that YOU REFUSE TO DISAPPEAR.
And maybe, just maybe, one day they’ll finally realize what they’ve been missing. But even if they don’t? Well, you’ve got something to shove right up their…. ahem you know where;)
Lost in the noise too? Swing by my corner on Her Campus at MUJ—I’m all ears for you.