Silence is golden so I am told. I have found no gold in it though. Silence is where the dammed speak in hushed whispers and inaudible tones. To me silence is but a means to an end and a tunnel through which I must pass. Filling with murmurs and echoes all around filling the air with its stagnation like a pooled river.
Final retribution in silence and terminating in sounds unrecognized by human senses and unknown to the mind. Bleeding within through the silence and rain which falls what seems eternal in times as recent event. No relief sought as no shelter shall be offered though I am not alone this fact remains. I am not alone though within I am always alone in my silent world.
Paper is an escape though which my thoughts are bared to none; written for none. A means by which silence broken and voice is shared. Sitting alone yet never truly alone externally it seems within only the muted voices are my companions in my solitude. The world lay quiet and though desired to be broken the task fulfilled seemed futile until recently. Soon sound and voice shall fill my world as now for fleeting moments it permiates the silence; shattering the walls.
Why do I write?
I write to escape the silence inside and for a moment share my voice. My words may hold meaning to only me or perhaps they may aid you. They are personal and yet shared to bare scares and soul to those willing and able to listen. These words unspoken yet screams of heart, mind and soul placed into view to be heard by your eyes.
I write in hopes the demons of past fade and in their sharing perhaps see burdens lifted. Though the purpose of writing is personal and in hopes my torment may serve a higher purpose. Perhaps I shall never know if a single word was of use though I pray someone finds more comfort than I’ve known.
I write in the hopes my voice is heard in the sea of people. My voice for years silenced by choice in the belief that because I am different that I am a freak. I didn’t choose to be born deaf; but it’s made me who I am. I am not ashamed of who I am or how I was born anymore and I wear my freak flag as a badge of honor. I know through lifes lessons we are all freaks, we all have trials, we all have pain and we all know some measure of victory.
I write to proclaim my feelings to many and to few. Those who wish a look inside my head, inside my heart and into my soul can find it here in my words. Perhaps in time my voice will reach intended mark.
I write so deaf ears may have voice and perhaps eyes shall not be deaf as well. In these words I find healing, stength, love and kindness. Even darkest torment holds candle to read when silence is broken and words shared.
I write for me, for you, and for any for whom silence has been their companion. I am looking to brighter future with silence broken and vivid world allowed entry to thoughts. For dreams yet realized and passions shared.
I write to share dreams, life and hope. I know many face dreams and reality of seeing them broken, we all face life and one day at a time to forge a future. We all hope for our future to be brightened and reveal a time where we find peace.
I write in hopes my future as yet written may be brightened by words to expess dreams today. Perhaps in reminder of dreams we find a measure of the future and the dreams that come. I hope this is the case because I’ve many dreams for clouded future. I pray to see it brightened to reveal what sight can’t see and what ears can’t hear. Perhaps in time my crystal ball will show me all that lay ahead for now I put them pen to paper and hope against stacked odds my dreams oneday realized.
I write because I love to write. I’ve been writting in a private journal for more than a decade and a half. Over time it’s helped and I finally got brave enough to break my self imposed silence.
I write for none and yet it’s meant for any who see use in my words. If one finds comfort or knowledge or in any way is helped or inspired then my writing was a success.
I can’t picture a world where this voice; my voice is silence even when the vivid world of sound supercedes silence and my voice is given substance. For me this world of silence shall always be a refuge, a curse at times and a place I know as familiar. A place to which I escape back to pen and paper and once more express myself. Sometimes to bare soul and scar in an effort to best latest demon, sometimes to tell of dreams and love, and sometimes just to let you or any reading that I am speaking to them.
“Hello it’s me inside your head can you hear me?”