Forms

How does silence look at you?

Does it take the shape of a closed room or it just takes the back seat of a cab?
On Somedays it comes along with me to the coffeshops and on other days as a hung up phonecall, an unanswered text or the locked door of your home where no one awaits.
It gives me a profound sense of agony when i’m left out in a group of people where they laugh till their stomach aches and somehow somehwere i’m always a misfit.
It’s funny how the world around you keeps moving like a lightning bolt where you remain as a glitch.
While i’m trying to gracefully accept the silence around me, i’m in constant awe “what if it becomes a part of me and lingers me till death?”
But then i tied to the strings of silence to the words i write and kept them in my favourite books. The more i read and write i saw the void shrinking slowly, opening doors inside me, finding versions of me with whom i could endlessly talk. I found a sense of belonging where my nervous system finally felt safe.
It’s not that i found a companion in books its how i learnt to enjoy my own company :)