Sometimes, either there is nothing to be said, or there is a lot going on in your head that you cannot articulate the very mess you feel. Either way, you become helpless before this language barrier. It is a deadlock. Therefore, it is at such times that silence is most appreciated. For it speaks a language nobody but you is capable of understanding. Your mental capacity just grows weary of words, and it seeks refuge in a voiceless—abso-fucking-lutely mute sphere.
Maybe because voices and sounds become too petrifying to bear; maybe because nothing is worth attentive care; maybe one needs to rest their ears, seal their mouths, and appreciate the inaudible waves surrounding them.
Even your heartbeats feel odd. They feel quite unworldly. They feel like muffled shrieks. The heart craves to penetrate its way out of the chainlike ribs. Every other organ, while twisting on the inside, conspires to thwart it, repress it, and tether it to the bare bones. The heart’s rebellious beats condemn it to eternal illusory dreams. Its sentence is to serve inside a huge, grotesque hollow flesh machine.
At the end of the day, I know for a fact that it’s only a coercion with the sole purpose of walling off the bone-cracking voices and sound waves.