The Sound of Silence

When the world gets too loud, I shut my ears, sit in my bedroom, and put on my favorite music. Ahhh! The silence is like heaven for me, perhaps even more. It feels as if, for a few minutes, I can escape into another world where chaos doesn’t exist, and I’m allowed to simply breathe without interruption. That moment of peace is something no amount of noise or distraction can replace.

I may possess the ability to withstand physical pain, but when it comes to mental or psychological strain, I crumble almost instantly. Physical wounds heal; they leave scars, but eventually they fade. Mental exhaustion, on the other hand, is far more powerful, far more invisible, and far more consuming. From losing focus to draining every ounce of my energy, it all happens in the blink of an eye when I’m surrounded by commotion. The world around me can sometimes feel like a spinning wheel of noise, voices, and responsibilities. It’s… horrible. It’s… painful. It’s… unbearable.

For some reason, my parents mistake my need for solitude as “arrogance and ignorance.” To them, being quiet is being careless, and sitting in silence is being lazy. We’ve clashed many times because of this difference in understanding. I wish they could see what I see — that whether I’m angry, frustrated, stressed, bored, or exhausted, silence is like a magic potion for me. Those few moments when I can be alone, whether sitting in my bedroom staring at the ceiling or gazing into the mirror, are moments I truly can’t describe in words. It’s not loneliness; it’s recovery. It’s not arrogance; it’s preservation.

I’m not sure if I fit neatly into the category of an introvert, but one thing is clear: I value meaningful silence, symphony, and solitude over meaningless words and constant noise. I know this makes me seem boring to some of my friends and relatives. They prefer endless chatter, social gatherings, and being surrounded by people at all times. And that’s okay — I don’t expect them to change. But to me, those who understand my love for silence, those who respect it rather than mock it, are like gems. Rare, valuable, and unforgettable.

I don’t like making too many friends, but the few I do make, I treasure deeply. My dad often scorns me for this “attitude.” He tells me I should open up more, socialize more, and stop living inside my own head. But what he doesn’t see is how much I enjoy the company of silence. My mom says I’m ignorant and careless, as though silence is a sign of weakness. What I wish they could understand is that silence isn’t about ignorance — it’s about reflection. It’s about finding clarity when everything else is confusing.

Perhaps my diary and my pillow could explain it better to my parents. They’re the ones who listen to me every night without judgment. They’re the ones who carry the weight of my unspoken thoughts. My bedroom mirror, the one directly across from my bed, knows the burden of carrying emotions in your chest — emotions you want to express but fear will be judged, laughed at, mocked, or dismissed as useless. Silence becomes my only safe space.

And so I let people say what they want. Let them call me boring, arrogant, or even strange. Their words don’t change the fact that silence, even for just a few minutes, is my energy charger. It reboots my mind, heals my heart, and gives me the strength to face the noise of the world again. Without it, I’d be lost in the chaos. With it, I can stand tall, even when life feels unbearably heavy.

Silence is not emptiness. Silence is not weakness. Silence is not arrogance. Silence is my luxury. Silence is my peace. And most importantly, silence is my strength.