Silence

I thought I knew silence
I always thought of it as the absence of sound
I thought I knew silence before
Before that night
Before that night I thought I’d been silent
I thought I’d heard and enjoyed silence
But there’s always something to listen to
Be it a cricket, a thought or the waves crushing and calling for you (I’ve always loved that sound)
Snow gently falling, that’s the closest I’ve ever been to silence, but always crunching branches break the quietness of it
Until that night I thought all that, was silence (that was my concept)
That night my dreams were stolen form me
That night fears I never thought I had showed their face
That night I fell, and no safety net caught me
No known hand broke my fall
I hit the floor that night, and it hurt
In every cell (sometimes it still hurts, it’s funny how cells can remember)
With a rope around my neck and a stranger on my back
I met silence
I struggled at first, not physically but in my mind
Thoughts and words crossed my mind, unorganized, incoherent
I didn’t see my life moving backwards at amazing high speed nor a blinding light appeared
I remember the cold, I remember suffocating
I felt fear
I recalled words of those whom I love
I remembered the moment I said I would ride Steffie’s bike that day
I remembered how I love raspberries and how much I hate olives (but I still eat them)
Then I gave in to silence
I floated in darkness and felt the void that destroys everything (a black hole sucking life out of myself) and I was not myself anymore, at least not the self I had known and designed a life for
BLANK (I assume I’ve lost consciousness)
Stranger let go, stranger let go of me
Left me there
Laying alone
On the floor
And for the first time I understood and felt what it meant to feel broken inside
To feel in a million pieces
Facing silence
Soon broken by sirens and silly questions, white coats, examinations and questions
How could I not be confussed and overwhelmed?
Maybe I got too distracted with my overwhelmed head that I was unable to catch a face or notice a distinct feature so that I could describe Stranger, maybe it was denial
And I was blamed for that, by cops, by friends, even by myself
For sometime I wished I’d remembered
Sick obsession
I got stuck in that moment
Felt like the same day everyday, more of a nightmare I’d say
Files and phone calls and police forms to fill up
Impersonal rooms and uncomfortable chairs
Tears and pain bigger than my chest
Questions and questions and questions again…. and no answers to me
I got tired, I got sick of myself
So I chose life
I chose to rebuild myself
I gathered the pieces I left on the floor of that parking place on the back of a hotel
I didn’t know where to start from, but I started
It’s been over a year now since that night, and probably I will never know who that stranger was or the reasons he had to do that to me, if there can be a reason for that
But I am happy I chose life over victim
And I am glad when I close my eyes I have no face or name to fear
Now I can close them knowing that I live, and that the smile once stolen from me is back on my face (the hardest piece to ever put back in place)