“I hate the silence.
The way it crawls in under your skin, working it’s way into your bones. Then my muscles start twitching. All the nerves on my spine prodding me about the phantoms watching me from the shadows. Every slight twist in the light, every half heard sound hinting at the existence of something dangerous just beyond my senses.
I’d speak, or hum, or scream, but then I wouldn’t be able to hear. Some rational part of my mind chides me for how silly it is, jumping at shadows but refusing to turn on the light. Items and clothing discarded at the very edges of the shadows are functioning as Rorschach tests of my paranoia. Still I can’t move, can’t make the short trek to the light switch that would act as my salvation.
The tendrils of burning cold fear that had begun at my spine have spread their grasp to the muscles in my arms. Click, it’s coming from the window, click, click. Branches I tell myself, my legs paralyzed but their muscles tensed. The silence returns but does not carry my relief. It’s only natural, after all, I hate the silence.”
“I love the silence.
The world which normally assaults me with all it’s Technicolor sights and sounds is left at arms length. Here I am forgotten, alone, left to think without the interruption of the normal world. The silence envelops me, holding me close like a long parted lover.
Everything that I know should be around me has disappeared from my conscious awareness. Whatever may have been necessary out there, is now an afterthought soon cleansed from my mind. Peace. All around me, the gentle peace restores my bonds with that which I left behind in the loud and bright world. Protected by the silence I can let slip the barriers that force me to remain aloof and paralyzed in daily life.
I am relaxed. I am at peace. I love the silence.”