Chasing Silence

Storm after storm, I’m a stupid bamboo plant wildly swaying with the wind.

                                                                                                

Ghastly gloom seems to bar my clear way when I want it so peacefully. Is it a crime to be silent? I’ve been feeding thoughts within me that “silence means everything.” Lesser words would be lesser pain. Though I have the propensity for verbosity and hyperbole when it comes to “other things,” I prefer minimalism in real life. I tend to be silent even with myself. If I talk with myself, or mumble within my mind, I’ll be some sort of idiot. This is the time when I see my hands covering the face in front of the mirror. 

                                                                                                      

Fresh from different storms both physical and emotional, from home to career and something in between - I’m still holding on. The latest destructible one was being accused of deceit. Somebody relentlessly put on painful words that pierced me. It shook me though I stand compact. I was honest to myself though I had my flaws. I done no wrong to hurt that person. I was sentenced without trial. It pushed me to stay silent. Recently, I did so much doze of talking and laughing with friends and phony phone calls but I was shallow. I am normal. Being silent and normal will not mask my ailing heart.

                                                                                                                     

I treated myself to eat out, bought myself candies, and hunted old friends to meet me. It wasn’t therapeutic. I went to malls and walked the streets of Manila to entertain myself with impressive Christmas displays. I stayed home and came hushed again. I even did movie marathons that put me on other proportions – fourth, fifth dimension. The last DVD I watched pressed some joke on me. I thought it was a comedy feel-good vintage film from Jack Nicholson. I never read it from book or film reviews. All I knew was it got raves and acclaim. “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest,” Milos Forman’s Oscar-winning film in 1975 was comically dark and foreboding. It contained literal baloneys in their quest for group recovery. I wasn’t in their characters. Even Randall McMurphy’s role played by Nicholson was so cool and relaxing that I conclude that he’s no looney. He was placed on a mental institution to be assessed emotionally because of delinquency. Argh, I didn’t like the ending though it had its vindication of bittersweet liberation. 

                                                                                                   

I’m not goin’ nuts. Maybe I’m just lost. There are lots of things in life that cannot be explained in simple words; more likely in silence. Life’s a joke right now. Daniel Wallace’s Big Fish book put on metaphors surrounding tall stories in life. “Have you ever heard of a joke so many times you’ve forgotten why it’s funny? But when you hear it suddenly it’s New. You remembered why you loved it in the first place!” I’m not gonna love my solitude right now. I will laugh when I already feel it’s funny. I’m virtually on solid ground swaying in whirling directions, wherever the storm takes me.

Comments

[AJ MaO'Brn]

Deafing silence, it's stillness beyond anyone's imagination. It still bother us when we expect something and nothing is heard and seen.

[Richmond]

I'll link you here...
www.monmon.wordpress.com