When Silence Screams.
I’m alone for the first time in almost ten years. No one needing me, no one asking for anything. Just silence , heavy, suffocating, endless silence. It’s not peaceful. It’s nails on a chalkboard, dragging down the walls of my mind until I can’t think straight.
I thought I wanted this begged for it, even. I wanted space, quiet, freedom from the constant pull of being needed. But now that I have it, it feels like pure hell. Every second stretches out, mocking me with its emptiness.
The TV scrolls endlessly , movie after movie, show after show , but nothing sticks. Nothing holds me. I can’t focus, can’t care. I keep moving from room to room like I’m looking for something I lost, but I don’t even know what that is anymore.
It’s strange to spend years never really being alone, yet always feeling lonely. And now here I am , completely alone , and somehow, I feel even lonelier. The kind of loneliness that hums beneath your skin, that makes you want to scream just to hear something other than your own thoughts. The kind that reminds you how loud silence can be.
I keep telling myself God is here, somewhere in this quiet, but I can’t feel Him right now. I can’t hear Him over the sound of my own ache. And yet, even in this hollow space, a part of me still believes He hasn’t left me , that maybe this silence isn’t punishment, but invitation.
Saint Teresa of Calcutta once said,
Tonight, I understand those words in a way I wish I didn’t.
So I sit here in this silence, in this hell, in this strange freedom praying that somehow, someday, this emptiness turns into something holy.
I thought I wanted this begged for it, even. I wanted space, quiet, freedom from the constant pull of being needed. But now that I have it, it feels like pure hell. Every second stretches out, mocking me with its emptiness.
The TV scrolls endlessly , movie after movie, show after show , but nothing sticks. Nothing holds me. I can’t focus, can’t care. I keep moving from room to room like I’m looking for something I lost, but I don’t even know what that is anymore.
It’s strange to spend years never really being alone, yet always feeling lonely. And now here I am , completely alone , and somehow, I feel even lonelier. The kind of loneliness that hums beneath your skin, that makes you want to scream just to hear something other than your own thoughts. The kind that reminds you how loud silence can be.
I keep telling myself God is here, somewhere in this quiet, but I can’t feel Him right now. I can’t hear Him over the sound of my own ache. And yet, even in this hollow space, a part of me still believes He hasn’t left me , that maybe this silence isn’t punishment, but invitation.
Saint Teresa of Calcutta once said,
“The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved.”
Tonight, I understand those words in a way I wish I didn’t.
So I sit here in this silence, in this hell, in this strange freedom praying that somehow, someday, this emptiness turns into something holy.
22-25, F
