You know what is strange?

Before my stroke, I was articulate.

 Words were my strength.

 I could speak clearly. Confidently. Fast.

Then everything changed.

Now I speak slower.

 Sometimes I lose the word halfway.

 Sometimes my brain blanks out at the worst time.

And I see it.

That flicker in people’s eyes.

 The moment they wonder if I understand.

 If I am still… sharp.

Let me say this clearly.

It is not just after my stroke.

It still happens now.

Even today.

And for a while, it hurt.

 It made me feel small.

 Like I had to prove I was still intelligent.

But something shifted in me.

I realised — intelligence is not about speaking the fastest.

 It is not about winning arguments.

 It is not about correcting everyone in the room.

Sometimes, real intelligence is choosing not to react.

I have sat with people who talk loudly about what they know.

 Who pretend certainty.

 Who perform intelligence like it is a competition.

And I have stayed quiet.

Not because I do not know.

 Not because I cannot respond.

But because I no longer need to.

There is a different kind of strength in silence.

 In restraint.

 In watching without interrupting.

The stroke slowed my speech.

 But it sharpened my awareness.

I see more now.

 I understand more now.

 I choose my energy carefully now.

If someone underestimates me,

 I let them.

Because I know who I am.

And I do not need to pretend to be intelligent.

I just need to live it.

 Quietly. Steadily. Fully.