a rant to quiet

When, I was younger I tried to kill myself because I wanted quiet.

Of course, I didn’t realize that at the time.

I thought I was mad at my mother, my lover, at myself and my fucked up Life.

But really I was sick of listening to the voices telling me what to do, what to think or feel.

Sick of being judged and lecture too.

I had a loud partner at the time, he walked heavy– stomping hard against the floor.

He yelled and ranted all the time so the whole world would hear him and know that he was in charge.

When he wasn’t around when no one was around, I could still hear his and their words rolling around my head.

Those words weren’t needed; I already had my own echos clouding my mind.

I was told today that I had no social skills–I was told this by a moron.

But maybe I don’t have very good social skills because I have always been very shy and untrusting of people.

I was the person who couldn’t mustard up the courage to call for pizza.

To scared of what a stranger on the other end might think of me.

But truly scared of a brain, that would torture by racking up the ” what I should  have or should not have said.”

Every interaction  with every person was a chance to open the flood gates to the pesky critic living inside.

I used to hide under my bed and cover my ears to tune  out all the critic’s noise and the ramblings of other outside critics.

My friends, family and strangers couldn’t find under there in the darkness. There I could get peace.

Or I would lock myself in the bathroom, lying against the tiled floor and feel soothe by the floor’s coldness. After I cried and moaned, I would get a little of what I seek, a hidden moment, a moment without verbal clutter. If hiding wasn’t enough, I would run the sink water and drown out my mental agony with its drizzling.

There came a time when I no longer needed to hide. I learn to sit in the open, quietly and still, and find a little break in the racket. In the last few years, no matter how loud things have gotten, I could find my center in meditation.

But recently, it seems that my center has run off– playing hide and seek.

The last two weeks have been hard, long and confusing.

Now, I’m tossing and turning in bed looking, hoping, praying for a little peace.

There was a lot of noise yesterday. Noise, Lies, misunderstanding and miscommunication coming from people I loved.

Hours, so many hours later and I can’t get the noise out of my head.

Just a tiny bit of quiet, is all I longer for.

I breathe, I breathe and the noise doesn’t leave. I try to forget using a blasting television to drown it out. But it screams over even my favorite show.

In times like this being still is the best medicine. Yet, my mind and body are too antsy. All I can do is lie in my bed, stare at the the ceiling, letting words go around and around in my head. Knowing that my peace will come. Knowing that this state will pass. Knowing that I have felt hopeless and lost like this before and it passed. Knowing that states like this always bring me closer to the long-standing tranquility that I seek. And as I search for a little space of thought at least–at the very least, in this trial  I am reminded that everything I do and everything that we all do, we do because of a longing for our taste of quiet, peace and serenity.

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