“I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same mind. But the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave. This is the world of light and speech, and I shall take leave to tell you that you are very dear.”
~ George Eliot
I cannot handle the silence. I am not sure if it’s the silence others are wanting from me that I cannot handle, or if its the silence that I receive that I cannot handle. Both leave me unattended to an eternity of assumptions, doubts, and second guesses. I’d rather hear something a thousand times just to eliminate the chance that I may forget.
Our reality consists only of the things that our senses can rely upon, and how easily our reality escapes us in their absence. This is it, our one chance to make sure we’re heard. And even though my soul is screaming, my voice is silenced. My thoughts, my affections, my cries are never known, for fear of being wrong, of being mistaken.
Our world weaves wicked webs that are not so easily undone. It’s easier to encourage the silence, so that the ugliness may go unnoticed. But in the end, when the chance has passed, we are stuck with everything unspoken. Unable to escape its debilitating and deafening power. So for better or for worse, say it. Everyday if we must, to make sure we are heard. It is up to those around us that must choose to not only listen, but more importantly to choose to still love us after they have.