SEEN

That’s how I feel.

When I made this post on Substack, I was speaking into the void, I wasn’t expecting any engagement whatsoever. I wrote because the words were fighting to come out but I couldn’t speak to anyone about it.

The support and encouragement I’ve gotten these past two days have been sublime, when I logged in because I needed to escape the week I just had, and saw 21 notifications, I was perplexed.

I haven’t done anything engagement-worthy recently.

Opening it up to the outpouring of love and support was the highlight of my week……no, wait… it was one of not the.

The highlight was Tobi Odeyale’s post.

Dear Tobi,

Wow.

Where do I even begin? I’m at a loss for words, and no longer in the lost voice kind of way. It’s more like someone just reached into the confusion swirling in my head and translated it back to me with an eloquence I didn’t know was possible.

You turned my musings into a moment. And I think what makes it hit the hardest is the fact that you really heard me, even when I felt like I was just fumbling in the dark. It’s one thing to be vulnerable, to let people see the cracks. But it’s another to be met with so much grace and understanding that you actually feel less fragile for doing it.

Your response made me realize: maybe I haven’t really lost my voice. Maybe I’ve just been stuck waiting for permission to try a new one. I’ve been clinging to the familiar, obsessing over a “voice” that, like you said, should have been on shuffle all along.

It’s funny how, just like that, the concept of “voice” feels less suffocating and more freeing. I’m realizing it’s okay if I’m not always on the same frequency—I can switch things up, which is basically owning my weird. Heck, I am my weird, and maybe that’s why the mic have seemed muted for a while now. I’m trying to speak in voices that aren’t mine anymore.

You nailed it: I don’t own a singular voice. I’m just shuffling through my playlist, deciding what fits the moment.

Thank you for reminding me of that.

And as for “Own Your Weird”? I don’t think I can ever break up with it. To be honest, I’m more relieved than I care to admit. Maybe it’s not about restarting or erasing but about reimagining and making room for every version of me. Maybe that’s how I’ll keep finding my way back to my voice.

Also, shoutout to your coworker for unknowingly adding the final verse to this unintentional duet.

You’ve given me so much to reflect on, and I’m grateful you took the time to pen it all down for me, as someone who admires you and your writing, it means the world to me. Like you said, “No One Knows Anything.” We’re all just out here, figuring it out, trying to make sense of the static—and yet somehow, even in this haze, you managed to capture me perfectly.

So here’s to staying on shuffle and finding my voice anew, again and again.

Yours in weirdness,
Sophia.