It’s a well-known thing. We all, almost, go through a phase or some junctures that make us realize that words are no longer an option. That’s when a few of us use the Silent treatment. It’s a state of passivity that ushers out the silence I speak of. My silence screams & tears apart my senses, it anguishes my self, but what can I do? What to change it? The compassion I once had, had let me down so miserably, that I can no longer defy this silence, the silence that works like a wall for me. An impediment, saving me from things I do not want to feel. Things, that if I feel, will certainly take me to places I no longer want to go to.
They behave, as if ignorant of the fact, that I too am made out of flesh & bone. That, I too have blood running through my veins. That, I too demand empathy. That, I am not numb & not made of clay. Without remembering that even clay can be shaped again, but not me, they wound me. Once damaged, I shall be too far be gone to be saved. At this point my silence says, stay mum & let it slide. Heart says, someday they might understand. Mind says, forget it, it’s a lost cause.
I just let it slide, despite knowing of the absence of understanding. Despite knowing that this stagnation will cause a slow, yet steady deterioration of my sense, I let it slide, just so that it can repeat itself every day. Every day, my silence screams out a thousand words, I just fail to hear them.