Silence. I believe this is the word that better describes what I truly longed for. For one who speaks so much it would seem or write it is in those moments I find peace. We have so much to say yet so little that actually means something. Words always have the deepest of meaning when given so. Yet to me, they are worlds, actions, words to me have power.
Mystery held me in complete awe. So I sit here, writing. Finding the peace of mind that comes in as a harbinger longing to bring me home. Each drop of ink or passing of keys unlocking my mind from the storm that rages within. Restless nights I describe, trying to find solace in such disarray.
I looked at my pocket watch on the table. The ticking kept my heart in unison with its motion. I could hear my breathing. The world seems to be at a stand still as I sit here writing. The worlds I’ve explored as a reader or the world’s that flow from my imagination. The desk felt cold. I looked at the screen again. The light brushed against my skin though I felt not its touch. The blinking line on the screen as the words were ready to escape.
I noticed the humming noise in the background. Sounds of music. Sweet melodies that filled my ears and I found myself smiling. It was these moments that I find myself allowing time to be felt. I felt the strokes of each key. It began to take hold. Words flowed and I began to bleed. Though I could it now hear it as more words escaped. The noise all around me. And in those moments as the words finished I noticed why I longed for the peace of mind. I preferred the silence. I prefer finding myself in the quiet of night than the storm that rages inside or around. And so I write.