My silenceMy silence should no be mistaken for anger or sadness. My silence is different from others; the silence is what I call home. It is my safety blanket in this world, filled with noise. Everywhere I look there is noise, loud and small. I wonder do people see what I see, when I do not pay attention to the noise. Have they ever heard the wind howl? Have they ever seen a lizard in a brush? Time is a prison that haunts me with every tick, as humans we create prisons to hold ourselves. From fears to time, we like knowing we are trapped. Some people do not fight it but just accept it while I try to break the chains that hold me and weigh me down. Silence is my home and time is my prison, a deadly concoction of fear.
Fear is everywhere, to the man in the elevator whose hand grips the bar to the girl trying to find her voice in a public speaking class. I refuse to accept defeat; my silence is my weapon as I am a ghost to preying eyes. It keeps me safe from predators who want to hear my words. I s