Silence
In many ways, I believe silence has countless things to say.
Countless things to teach me about myself.
For whichever direction my thoughts choose to take every time things go quiet, is more often than not a reflection of where I am in life.
There’s the silence of not hearing back from someone I care about. Whenever it brings me back to doubting if it’s because of something I’ve said or done, I realize I still have a fear of not being liked every time I openly put myself out there.
There’s the silence that follows someone turning back to me as I first walk through the door. If out of all the possible conclusions my mind could jump to, I start questioning whether something’s wrong with my face or the outfit I picked, it says more about how comfortable I feel in my own skin than their actual thoughts.
There’s the silence I feel whenever I think God must be angry at me, that has me missing out on all the signs He specifically sends my way.
There’s the silence between the pages on my journal which I might assume I was lazy to fill, when it could rather tell a lot about the mess inside my brain.
Point is, silence always speaks. It’s just a matter of whether we’re willing to listen, and really, whether we’re willing to accept and work through what it has to say.
