what silence told me

There’s something about the silence that’s both invigorating and dismaying; hopeful and depressing. I am very acquainted with both of its personalities, because I spend an awfully large amount of time in silence (probably more than is healthy)—whether it may just be sitting in my room with no noise but the wind and birds coming from out my window, sitting in a lecture hall where I manage to block most of the noise from entering my thoughts, or pondering in a café where nearby conversations simply cease into a unified buzzing when my thoughts seem to come over-flooding in.

I find that this is the case with silence because of the same reason that I both crave and detest it at certain times. Sitting in a lecture hall listening to all the students talk amongst one another, they somehow fuel some invisible current of electricity of excitement and happiness and eagerness that I can never seem to feel. It’s ironic that I can observe what I can’t feel, but everyone else seems to feel what they cannot observe. It is during those times when I hunger for silence the most, and when I yearn to be physically alone because I already feel so alone any ways. It is during these times when taking solace in silence offers me the chance to escape and to allow my thoughts to dwell in something that brings up my spirits. Then I can feel ready to face the noise again. To “try again.”

Then, there are the cases when persistent silence just basically goes overboard and allows my thoughts to dwell in all the ways that I lack as a normal person. I think of my situation, especially, in how this regular, repeated sort of silence is not appropriate for a student like me. How so much loneliness shouldn’t be tolerated, but rather dealt with haste and not be seen as a state of solace. I truly cannot stand to hear myself think whenever this event comes surfacing. I even begin to detest myself as well, but the silence continues to allow myself to do this nevertheless.

So what has the silence told me? That I am responsible for whatever it is I feel. That I choose whatever it is I feel because the silence allows me to do so, even if it is uncaring and apathetic.

5 thoughts on “what silence told me

  1. Silence is a wonderful thing, the world seems to be constantly full of noise and people who need to hear themselves speak, which always seems to be in the company of other for some reason. Our own silence is invigorating and perhaps an invisible shield against the outside world.

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