You have 4 free member-only stories remaining for the month. Subscribe now for unlimited access

Quiet, Not Peace

It’s been a while since I listened. I’ve placed my hands over my ears and covered them to stop the noises from entering. The feeling of being in a bubble, a space where everything is muffled. It’s like when you find a large conch at the beach, and you listen to what people tell you it is: the sea. The air moves, but somehow the words still enter.

I’ve been told I’m stubborn, and I don’t contest that description of me. In fact, I think it describes me very well. I remember when I was in high school I refused to acknowledge that a tiger was a cat. Of course, I blame part of that on my own stupidity and the refusal to say I was wrong. I didn’t like being wrong because it didn’t give me control. The idea that my convictions were wrong was unfathomable.

Am I being stupid for being stubborn? Probably, but it’s the only thing I can control. Over the years I’ve learned to listen, I think I’m very good at it now. I listen before I speak, I admit my mistakes, however, I still don’t like being out of control. I can’t control the world. I’ve accepted that. I can’t make the world believe that a tiger is not a cat, because that is false. Right now, something I can’t control is the state of the world. The world can’t even control the state of the world. I think it’s a sign. Great mother nature is getting rid of us before we can get rid of her. The next mass extinction. Get rid of the things that kill the most. We think of ourselves as intelligent, morally greater, but are we? This is something I can’t control. The world is too loud. I can’t listen to all of it all at once.

So, I’ve decided to stop listening. Not completely of course. The words still filter between the cracks in my fingers, muffled, but still clear. The moment I remove my hands It comes for me. It’s a powerful thing, coursing through my veins. I can’t stop It. I never have been able to. I can only delay It, which is what I’m doing now. The vibrations that course through me and the dread that overcomes my senses leave me feeling helpless. Whenever It comes I hate it, yet It’s become so ingrained in my being that I can never even hope to escape It. I stopped listening in the hopes to delay the inevitable. It’s not a cure. Not an antidote. Maybe a vaccine. I think it’s just a painkiller. Stops It for now, but eventually, It will come again.

Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in Personal Narrative