I want somewhere quiet.
So violently quiet that the silence
hurts.
Somewhere that it’s all I can do to block out the piercing emptiness by thinking.
To sit.
To process these things as they are.
Unfettered.
Free forming.
Ruthless yet loving in their own brutality.
Somewhere to find my deathly silence.
About the Creator
Bevan Tse-stuart
coping with depression. Mostly just me venting but any love is appreciated
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More stories from Bevan Tse-stuart and writers in Poets and other communities.
New Normal
There is always a moment — small, quiet, almost forgettable — when the spark stops being a warning and becomes a state. It never looks like a turning point from the outside. It’s not a dramatic shift. It’s not a cinematic beat. It’s a subtle internal click, a recalibration so slight that only someone who has lived this cycle as many times as I have would recognize it.
By Elisa Wontorcik3 days ago in Poets
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