The Sisters Silence and Noise

Silence is deafening sometimes. People often like to sit with Silence. They find her peaceful and gentle, a place for them to rest. People are funny like that. They beg for Silence and equate her to peace, seeing them as the same. I disagree, Silence is not peaceful, she is not safe, she is not someone I ever beg for nor is she ever gentle.

Silence asks us to wait for Noise again, stuck in a place of constant anticipation. Listening closely for the creak of footsteps on the stair, the crash of something falling and shattering, clumsy footsteps in the hall. Waiting in anticipation for Noise to wreak her havoc on my body and mind. Silence loves to remind me that I am alone, alone against Noise who I am waiting for.

Silence is the shallow breathing under the bed, the stiffening of my body in terror, the heavy rock that forms in my stomach. She is the cold sweat forming on my brow and the quick beating of my heart that I cannot control. She makes me listen to my beating heart, causes my ears sharpen, and my hands to begin to shake.

Silence tells me to recognize the chill that flows over my body at the first creaking footstep. Because, after Silence comes, there will be Noise. That is Silence's guarantee, she whispers to me to wait, be still, listen carefully. She mocks both me and the little girl hiding under the bed. She taunts us, dares us to listen for Noise.

Silence is often seen as the absence of Noise. She is actually Noise's welcoming party, her close sister, calling for Noise to come play instead. Both the little girl and I know that Noise does not like to play nicely. She gives us bruises and scars on our bodies and hearts. Noise screams at us, not the taunting calls of Silence, but instead she demands our attention. Her sound is harsh on the ears, comparable to the screech of chalk on a blackboard, and she wreaks havoc in her wake.

Noise loves to bring playmates, with her she brings Pain and Hate. Pain loves to fill our bodies with hurt, teaching us that we are broken. He carries us to the precipice of life, daring us to jump. Begging us to follow him over the edge, he holds our hands and tugs us to the edge like an excited child. Hate shows us how to bury Pain, hide Pain's presence with several layers of anger. Hate doesn’t beg, he demands that we follow him and Pain over the edge. He declares it is our duty to do so. Pain and Hate like to fight, blaming each other for the hurt. They fight loudly, telling Noise to come join.

When Noise becomes tired of the little girl and I, she leaves, leaving behind her friends Pain and Hate. Silence doesn't mind Pain and Hate when she comes back. She brings them a friend, Blame. Blame likes to visit until Noise comes out to play again. Blame is a good friend of Hate. He points his finger wildly in every direction, choosing at random who is the cause of the hurt. Eventually, Blame will point the finger at me. Hate and Blame work together once they have decided that I am the cause of the hurt. They link hands and carry the little girl and I to the edge. One push from Pain, and we are over the edge. Once over the edge, can we find a way to return? Time alone can complete this story.