The Quiet

Oh how I hate the quiet. It's not peaceful at all. It's completely menacing. The stillness wreaks havoc on my bones, knowing I'm left alone; to think, to ponder, to reflect to wonder. The quiet is good to those who have victory with closure. The quiet is patient and kind to those whose emotions are conquered and triumphed.

The quiet and I used to get along. The quiet was my favorite song. The quiet and I used to be best friends, until the quiet decided to invite itself into my head. The quiet reminded me what I've always known to be true. I was sad. The more I grew, the quiet reminded me that I was sad because of you.

How could the quiet do that?! Why would the quiet do that?! The quiet was supposed to protect me from playing the fool. Only the quiet laughed and said, "You'll play the fool soon." The quiet used to be my friend once upon a time. I used to listen to the quiet as gospel truth. That was a lie, the quiet turned out to be ruthless, nothing short of a mess wasting my time. I begged and pleaded with the quiet to leave me alone. Of course the quiet was smug and pulled me deeper into a vertigo.

The quiet and I don't speak anymore. I know the quiet is very much alive, however; we no longer see eye to eye. Which made me realize that the quiet was only trying to protect me in its own special way. And the quiet knew that there would come a day, the quiet warned me to remain guarded, because the quiet knew I would be discarded.

The quiet is now silent. It doesn't say much although we're still connected. Now that I've grown and I now know the truth, I could never hate the quiet I could only respect it.