Saturday Series: Cacophonous Silence.

“The world was too overwhelming for the child, so she hid in her mind. And if only she knew how loud her mind could be too, she wouldn’t be screaming the way she is today.”

Who knew the lies I was told as a child would create a monster that would haunt me, into my youth.
Who knew teenhood would not be marked with life’s greatest adventures but with tears and blood running after, sorrow upon sorrow.

Ugly lies that would echo menacingly at inopportune times, when my insecurity crept in, snaking its cold unrelenting grasp around my neck, choking me, bringing me to my knees at the casket of memory I had tried so hard to bury.

People didn’t like me ; everything I did was not good ; my success depended on the reaction of others, if they were happy, I did well, if not, I was a failure.

These thoughts leering at my distress every hour, made their long term abode in my tormented mind.

And I kept silent.

Then, how the silence roared in my head and how it eagerly tried to consume every inch of my pain-filled soul.

Like a wound up toy soldier, I marched to the complicated tune of people’s wishes and fancies.

Donning a fool-proof facade, taking a sword and a shield, I faced the world with my false bravado.

But soon.

The no longer shining armour began to feel tremendously weighty, pulling me down, wearing me out and dragging me into the dust.
My shoulders shook, how strange, I thought, it never did before, or maybe I just hadn’t paid attention to it.
The sword, stained with blood, and I, with no recollection of victories, bore mottled bruises and wore countless scars.

How tired I felt ; I laid down and let the world pass by.

And still I kept silent.

Maybe it was a good thing, letting the heat of the noon day set my body ablaze and then fighting the excruciating pain, mind warring against flesh, to allow the cold midnight winds to freeze my charred spirit.

And it was the harshest climates that woke my quite dead resolve to press forward.

The heat planted a thirst to rise like the sun and the biting winds fanned a desire to try again.
And by and by, after conquering myself and my sick mind, I learned not to fear people’s opinion about me.
I no longer cared about their insolent attitudes toward me, their sharp tongues or fiery words.

Painfully peeling off the rusted armour that clung to me, I threw down my sword and shield and for a first, exchanged it for faith and love.

Now, no longer silent, hear my voice above the storm as I rise from the ashes.
I may be knocked down and belittled by you, but I will get up and I will try again.

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