Every Wednesday Aaron shares a writing prompt. This week it was “Silence”. Visit his blog for weekly prompts and other cool post (like questions of the week and movies he hasn’t seen). It will be well worth you while. I like these posts and although I don’t want to commit to writing for these prompts every week, it is also great fun to get involved. If you look in the search bar for Sunday Scribblings, you will find that I used my voice and did not stay silent. And I like that quite a lot.
My mind is never silent. The above photo was taken yesterday during the afternoon. I was cleaning some stuff and got caught up with these journals. They are the homes of many thoughts and memories. They hide the beginnings of stories and allowed me to write down poems without spell checker or grammar checker. These journals, that picture is also a testament to my inner struggles. My sorrows and joys. Everything is written down in there. Secrets disguised as fiction, fiction disguised as reality. Nothing is as it seems. And although everything is true, nothing is. The words and memories are reminders of those exact moments. They don’t mean much anymore, but a decade ago they were true and real and important enough to be written down. One moment these words were everything and the next the turned into nothing. Noteworthy is also, that I rediscovered many letters and postcards, tissues and scraps of paper that helped out as paper when sudden inspiration hit, and pictures too. Pictures of people who don’t exist in my life anymore. Letters of people who don’t have a voice in my life anymore. Memories of people who don’t hunt my dreams anymore. I spent a lot of time with old thoughts, and to my surprise they didn’t try to hurt me anymore. They lost their power over me. Haunting thoughts and memories are silent now. Just like so many people who used to be a part of my life and aren’t anymore.
Silence is never easy for me. Silence feels like rejection. It fuels my insecurities. Silence is rare. And because it is, I am already filling the next journal with parts of me. My story. Relatable or not. Important or not. It doesn’t matter, but I know that writing is my saviour and it keeps me sane when everything else is silent. Or when it is too loud.
Do I make any sense or are these mad ramblings of an unquiet mind? What do you think?
It’s the loudest silence that writes the most beautiful words. Don’t be afraid to listen to your mind. And write. Sing. Dance. Everything will be okay. And one day, you will be able to turn the page of your journal. One day you will open it for the last time and close it too. There is nothing left to add. Just, silence.
reflections of an unquiet mind 