Silence

Dear friend,

I didn’t think I would ever understand the concept of silence. Legitimate, actual silence. Not the kind you get in the middle of a conversation when no one knows what to say, and not the kind that happens after a loud train goes by and it gets quiet. The kind of silence I’m talking about is the one where you can hear the birds calling out to each other, talking about whatever happened that day. The kind where you can hear the water dribbling over rocks, each wave hitting and knocking the other over. The kind of silence when, for more than a second, you can feel at peace with yourself.  

That is the kind of silence I’ve never, truly accepted.

You see, I’ve always been very scared of who I am, who I could turn out to be. The future scares me more than anything in this world because it’s so unpredictable. The future isn’t something I can anticipate, like the answer to an equation, and it’s not something I can prepare for, like if I was going on a camping trip. The future is scary, completely out there, and completely out of my reach. Any action I do today WILL change tomorrow. There’s nothing I can say that will change that. It’s just…what if I do something wrong? What if I make one silly, stupid mistake, and it ends up ruining the rest of my life? What if the decisions I make right now because I think I know what I want to do and I think I know who I am really aren’t the correct decisions? How could I live with myself knowing that I did something unforgivable and it changed the course of my life?

I honestly don’t know. But I’m trying to figure it out.

Okay, let’s pretend there are two cliffs opposite each other, and I’m standing in between them. On one cliff is the image my parents, peers, teachers, and general society hold about me. On the other cliff is the image I hold about myself. An earthquake starts, and both cliffs begin to shake. The images fall to the ground and shatter. I’m surrounded by the broken pieces of myself. I don’t know what is true and what is a facade put on for all the members of society. I can only pick up three different pieces from the ground to take with me, three things I can know for certain are true about me. But which pieces do I take?

I’m staring at these pieces, wondering which parts are truly me and which ones I wish were me. A huge conflict is running about me, churning my stomach and turning my legs to nothing. I fall to the ground, surrounded by these images I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m drowning in the broken pieces of myself and I can’t swim to the surface. Each piece (actress depressed naive) rips into my skin, spilling my blood one drop at a time. It burns me (worthless ugly smart)every time it hits me. Each (silly) shard (pretty) tears (ginger) me (trustworthy) open (stupid) until…I’m nothing. I lie there, encompassed by me and my blood, as broken as those shards, for hours, maybe days—I don’t know anymore, I just keep hurting and crying. But soon, my sobs slow. My breathing evens. My heart beats steadily.

I lean to my left and see a shard, one bigger than most. I look to my right and behold another large piece. I pick them both up, and begin to stand. As I’m walking between the once-there cliffs, I discern the last piece I know I am going to take with me.

(Beautiful. Special. Worthwhile.)

There is silence.

Love always,
Emily