I remember when I woke up the next morning, when you were already far away from here. The room was plunged into a contradictory silence, a deafening and heavy silence, so dense that almost crushed me against the bed, and I had to fight to get up, like I had to fight to make my feet walk, one after the other, and to drag the weight of my body stripped of will on the streets of the city, looking for some comfort. Silence highlighted the fact that there was no one hundreds of kilometers around with whom I could share a sincere word and, although it was not clear, it contained the absence, a forgotten pain, feelings sent to sleep in the bottom of my soul. Is it really mattered to me? However, the silence was both comforting and healing in a way, and since it’s by my side, has calmed my mind and memory, though not certain emotions … not certain ideas.
Since the strange silence levered here, it began a fast invasion strategy, and has been gaining more and more ground from its epicenter, poisoning every corner of this place. At first, engendered by the rage, someone new came, but it was only a temporary mirage. Gradually, he started to lose his words to die away into silence. He was the first to be conquered. Then was the people here; all left one by one, each hot evening I could see them getting in their cars and speeding down the highway, without looking back. With them, all the noises and small sounds that accompany human presence were also gone, and so stopped the distant sound of their voices behind walls, the sound of dragging furniture or opening doors and drawers. After people, emotions were the next to be gone. The first ones missing were fear and worry, but soon others followed them. I cannot remember when was the last time I felt good. Now I do not feel either good or bad, I feel nothing, except sometimes hatred and a bitterness so atrocious that it seems I’ve been taking vinegar as breakfast every day. Interestingly, feelings also disappeared from my memory, and now I keep hours and hours of events, sounds, images with light conditions, colors, brightness, sensations like the twilight wind, the sweltering heat, laughter, the tension of my muscles when I smiled, but without any emotion linked to those sequences, as if it had not been me the one who lived those moments. At that point, silence began to attack the important things. The sound of your voice, took first place; then, the image of your face and your body shape, followed by your gestures, expressions, things you liked and didn’t like, how I felt and how you felt. It swallowed you whole, the strange silence. And when it had finished with you, when you were reduced to a blurred scrawl and forgotten, it started with me. Now I can’t find me, I look in the mirror and don’t recognize me, I don’t remember how I was supposed to be who I was or even who I was at all. But do I really care?
And now I wonder if once the silence has swallowed up all, it worths bringing it back from the darkness of time. Is it not better to leave everything like this and let silence consume us entirely, until we become only disfigured and unrecognizable shadows of what we were? What if when I see you again I can’t stand it and break down to cry in your arms? Will you hold me back or reject me brutally? What if I would show you my anger openly and I’d scream, smite you, push you away from me? Would you try to fix things, would you finally decide, would you beg me to stay? Or would you simply duck your head and accept it with relief? And if after this interval of loss it turns out you’ve missed me, would you promise me you’d stay with me and fix the mess you’ve done? And me, could I believe you that last time, or is it already too late?
What if there was nothing that you could do to fix everything that you’ve done wrong?
What if I should decide that I don’t want you there by my side?
What if I should decide that I don’t want you there in my life?