I dislike silence.

It has a peculiar noise, low and constant in my ears.

I feel like something is always lurking in silence, as if bad news just wait for the moment happiness stops its uproar to make themselves known.

I obviously know it's not like that.
Bad news wait the instant in which you are enjoying yourself to let the world fall on your shoulders.
The moment in which you are laughing, swimming in a sea of carelessness and hopefulness.

Nonetheless, I dislike silence.

I always prefer some kind of noise, like the ticking of a clock, or the distant sound of people talking.

I always prefer those tiny sounds a person makes when they share your space, being there but not needing you in other way than to keep them company.

I always prefer to let my attention be kept by the sounds of a show; which is fictional and true, and distant and engaging, which is there and it's not.

I always prefer the delicious way that pages are turned, and touched, and tapped. The sound of freedom and of coziness.

I dislike silence because when it is absolute I cannot stop thinking about what scares me, and when I do so I am vulnerable and lonely and stupid.

I dislike silence because it's nothing I was ever exposed to, because for me a moment of silence is a moment of tension, because in my family we are all loud and present and active.

I dislike silence, but it also comforts me.
Because I am changing, and I am growing, and I am trying to allow myself to be vulnerable and lonely and stupid.
Because not doing so makes me crumble when there's noise, but the noisy ones are the moments I like, and I don't want them to be tainted with people who touch me and try to meddle with my business.

So, I dislike silence.

But I need it.