I live my life in noise. I hide in sound and distraction and conversation. Silence terrifies me.
You come into my house and they’ll be some form of music, either the scratchings of a record as I read and wrote in my room, or the background of a Tv show or a game. It the kitchen with my friends, some background music if our voices are not being loud enough. My life is loud, but because it needs to be.
Quiet is solitude, the music is a companion. Music is a friend that smiles at me and tells me not to worry about it. Music says don’t think about those things, cheer up. But he’s not always there, he sometimes have to leave, or worse, I send him away. I take the needle off of the record, or I sit alone, turning off my ipod. Then its just me in the room, and my thoughts can escape. Loneliness becomes a force, a heavy blanket I get stuck beneath. My mind thinks of the things I lost and the things I’ve never had, hindsight is 20:20 and in the quiet all my mistakes, the many I could have prevented, become crystal clear reflections of my own quiet face.
So I invite my friend Noise back in. A friend calls for me, or I change to a new track, if only to throw away the quiet for a short while, because I fear one day I’ll get trapped in it, and I won’t be able to get out. Until then I’ll keep the Noise close, keep the music alive. And it will do the same for me.