I’ve come to fear silence, but silently, I long for it.
I fill my ears with music, with my own voice, because I don’t know how to coexist with silence anymore.
I taught myself to strum chords, thinking I didn’t have the words to fill the space.
I found words. If I don’t use them, I feel like something is being squandered.
I wonder. If I leave silence be, what is there left of me?
…
I look beyond, and I see an increasingly cacophonous world.
In a world that amplifies voices, we confound truths with what matters. The world tricked us into thinking that silence exists to be filled. And we filled it with all things, some best left unvoiced.
I fear the moment we stop talking — and honestly, it couldn’t come sooner.
I fear that when we stop talking, we’ll stop caring. Perhaps we’ll carry on caring in silence, surrendering our voices, because nothing else besides will make sense any longer.
We’ll fall in line with the others, quietly.
…
Many things go die in the dark.
Silence may be the end state, but what of it now, in the in-between?
…
You ask me what I am thinking of, and I respond, ready: nothing.
You ask me again, and the answer morphs into everything.
In between two breaths, voice and silence dance a delicate tango. Leading and being lead in turn, in directions unforeseen.
….