Silence

Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

I am the enemy.

I am the phantom whose presence in any conversation you have is always prefixed with ‘awkward.’

You would do anything to avoid listening to the sound of my voice, wouldn’t you?

I’ve begrudged many more of you than I have befriended.

In a world which equates loud with smart, I am a symbol of stupidity.

Affability comes with sound, doesn’t it?

I am alien. I am unrecognizable. I am strange.

I drive you insane.

I am a symbol of rebellion, against the very fabric of your nurture.

I am the monster forcing you to take notice of all the accumulated dogma in culture about me.

I am the reason you can’t stand to be alone with your own thoughts anymore.

I make you confront the deepest parts of yourselves.

I hold up a mirror against your soul, and unmask all your biases.

I neuter the power you give others to influence your own behaviour, and that’s not a version of yourself you recognize or adore, is it?

No, you would rather have me gone.

Any noise is better than my company.

I make you uncomfortable.

I sneak up on you when you least expect me, and I can, ironically, be deafeningly loud.

I, however, am a luxury. I’m elitist in some ways.

My taste is acquired as a result of years of reflection, solitude and practice.

I can open an entire dimension of relationships for you.

I can make you the most stellar conversationalist, the most charming friend, the most perceptive husband, the most caring wife, or the most beautiful child.

I can make you hear the oceans in a shell, or church bells in your head.

I can play Mozart for you in the solitary confinement of a prison cell.

I can give your soul strength beyond the reach of your understanding.

I can make you hope in the peak of despair.

My secret is so evasively conspicuous.

Are you listening?