A lot of things scare me. Insects. Birds. Fire. Closed spaces. But what scares me the most is Silence. A silence that is so deafening that I wish I were deaf. Everything about it scares me. How it starts. How it will end. If it will end or not. What if it comes back. What I do to cause it. What can I do to end it. I am always scared. And walking on eggshells.
Should I or shouldn't I... I ask myself that every single time before I utter a word. Before I break the silence. I am so scared I'll make a mistake or create a longer wave whispering solitude. Where all I can hear are my thoughts, the thoughts of that inaudible voice. And the sound of eggshells breaking.
On those many sleepless nights, I wait for my eluding sleep to arrive. So I can dream. And in my dreams free myself of the fears, and hear the conversation instead, loud and clear. Turn the volume up. And smile to the warmth of a friendly noise. The cacophony I desire. The clamour that I miss. And even if the dream turns into a nightmare, it would be one I would love to have over and over. At least it wouldn't be quiet anymore. And there would be no eggshells to bother over either.
But when I am awake: The music that sings is mute. The tv that plays is hushed. The phone that rings is buzz-less. The room that's still is soundless. The me that talks is voiceless. All that's left are eggshells.
Nothing gives me greater joy than when the silence is filled... and those dreaded eggshells are killed.
Nothing gives me greater joy than when the silence is filled... and those dreaded eggshells are killed.
