It’s in the quiet moments.

Life has picked up lately. Each day, each hour, fills crammed full. So there’s no time to think or feel. And I go through every day ignoring the pain I’ve taped up in boxes in a growing corner of my brain.

But it’s in the quiet moments that I’m reminded it’s there. It’s when I’m walking to the post office by myself and pain enters my chest and fills every space. It’s when I leave a large group of people and the emptiness of my room is echoed by the emptiness in what feels like my very soul. It’s in the quiet left behind after the music or tv is switched off.

Someone looked at me the other day and wondered at all I am mourning. And I wondered at how she knew when she didn’t know the half of it.

It’s when I look around and no one is there and I have nothing to distract me that I remember and am immediately tempted to fall into a hole I’d not soon crawl out of. The silence strips away the distractions and reminds me that my bones feel hollow.

It’s in the quiet moments.



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