Kidnapped by silence.

I was away for a couple of weeks. It didn't make much sense to be honest. I didn't feel like writing, but then again, I had stuff that I could publish already written. So what was happening?

When I did feel like writing, somehow I couldn't anyway. It felt like I had to stop every couple of words to feel something. I knew what I wanted to say, and first I thought I didn't know how to express it, but then I realized I didn't want to. It didn't feel relevant enough, important enough, and it didn't feel like it mattered.

And that was it. I was feeling like that about everything. About writing, yes, but also, about myself.

Silence had kidnapped me.

Don't get me wrong, this has happened before. It varies in intensity, of course. But it's always the same feeling at its root.

Nothing is relevant enough for me to... exist? Let alone write. It doesn't make any sense. Communication is worthless, knowledge is empty, everything moves too fast, too slow... everyday is Tuesday.

I don't think it's over yet. Silence keeps me locked away in a tiny drawer, hidden in a corner at the back of my mind. It uses my time to go over some broken spots again and again, licking wounds, asking weird question, and answering old ones.

But it's still annoying to feel like I'm being held against my will. All this changing has me spinning around like crazy, all these new roots, these new flowers... these new thorns. And I didn't know silence could be so loud.

Silence kill some things.
But it creates some new ones too.

---

I intend on coming back, and that's why I'm here today. I didn't leave completely, I kept upvoting some things most days. But I was mostly away, and every time I tried to come back, anxiety got to me first. Whenever I tried to let something out, anxiety squeezed harder until I choked on my own mind. I don't want to be a hostage of my existentialist madness, but sometimes it just gets to me.

I still fight. Even if I'm not sure if I should.
Maybe there's a way to go through it without fighting. That would be less painful.

Maybe silence needs to be heard. Maybe it has something to say.
Like I said, silence kills some things, yes. But it also creates new ones.

In fact, everything is born out of silence.

I'm here now, even in the middle of it all, I'm here, now.