I am known for being a talkative arse since high school. I hate ‘dead air’ the most, I hate going out without someone to talk to. I hate those awkward stares from the people I passed by when I’m alone (maybe they also hate me for my cold stares). Sometimes being alone doesn’t really mean I acquire silence. I especially refrain from going out of our dormitory when I don’t have someone to accompany me, because my skeptical mind is shrieking its own soul when I’m alone. I would rather be a worry-free, talkative arse with my friends than being skeptical with myself.
However, there are times that I love being indulged to silence. My definition of silence is when I hear nothing but the flow of nature, without interruptions, and just pure appreciation of being alone. These are the times of anticipating new and inspiring things to come. These are the times when I feel like my skeptical thoughts are being cleared from my memory. These are the times when I realize that I can be a strong, and independent woman being alone because silence is somehow, soothing. Silence is what gives me power, and it gives me that command to execute my dubious thoughts.
If I am expressing mere silence for a day, there is really nothing wrong with me, I am just cherishing those moments where I don’t talk to anyone at all and all I have to hear is the flow of nature, the mere sound of things that are moving, the deep conversations of the people around me, the rustling of vehicles outside our dormitory, the EDM music in my headset, etc.
Maybe silence of one’s self is what I am pertaining to.