When the Quiet Becomes Silence

This used to be a quiet place.

The world inside my head,

a gentle, quiet reprieve from the dim reality outside.

I don’t know how it happened;

it was one of those things that happened slowly

and then suddenly, all at once.

I used to imagine all the beautiful places I would visit,

never needing to travel because

the visions in my mind were so vivid, so alive.

I could be anywhere, anytime;

all I had to do was close my eyes.

Then it happened.

On a sunny daydream behind my eyelids,

I began to see shadows creeping onto the edges of my brain.

Small, almost imperceptible whispers of grey

hovering just on the horizon of my mind.

It was easy...

Easy to whisk them away,

easy to ignore the unease every time my mind wandered

past the fantastical boundaries of my sweet revelry.

Easy to ignore the slow vignetting of the picture inside my head,

the world I desperately escaped to.

The world I needed,

for the one before my eyes was unbearable.

My body could not escape it, but my mind always could.

It had to, or else my body would not survive.

All at once, the armor cracked,

and the shadows invaded.

Poison-soaked claws dug deep into my neurons,

forcing me to witness things no one could imagine.

I tried desperately to close my eyes and escape,

but without sight,

my other senses became hostages,

trapped in a conflict they could not run from.

I forced my eyes open, frantic for a way out.

But nothing was happening; there was nothing to run from.

The abuse had long since passed,

scars fading into mournful ghosts haunting my skin.

I sit up, knees to my chest.

Anger, sadness, fear well up all at once,

nearly ripping me apart as they battle for command of my being.

Anger rises,

forcing my clenched fists to slam into the mattress.

A contorted scream rips from my throat,

a rage of frustration.

Frustration that my body was not enough of a prize;

trauma had to take my mind, too.

Then the storm clouds open.

A torrent of tears flows as sadness takes over.

I let it.

Unlike anger, sadness is familiar, almost comforting.

Its smothering hold numbs the memories,

freezing everything in place until all I can perceive

is the overwhelming sadness,

instead of what caused the depression to manifest.

That is where I rest now,

sunk far into the depths of a frozen pool of despondency.

For here in the silence,

nothing can touch me—

not even my own mind.