People can be very cruel to one another, due to their own sensibility. Cruel to be kind, one might say. In response to an unpleasant situation, or words that may seem hurting, they withdraw deep into their shells, just to think about it, without realising that this "thinking" and the following silence might do more harm than good.
The silences I know are of different kinds - the kind that rebuilds you, and lets you appear more shining than ever in front of everyone, prepared to face life's vicisitudes and more, even dare life to give you more, without being afraid; the kind that lets you see through friends and foes, and recognize the good that comes with the bad, and maybe put an end to the latter; the silence that is empty, the one that bears creation, the emotional silence, the one that watches movies, the one that stares at the walls, the silence of being hurt, and the one that precedes words of wisdom. There is one particular form of silence though, that also exists in the bravest of us, although reason may concede otherwise - it is the silence of cowardice. When you are afraid of what might come out of your thinking, of what you have done - or didn't do, and of the reactions (of silence) that you might trigger. And the longer you avoid it, the more painful are the words roll from your lips. Because at some point, the risk is to encounter - not anger, not despair, but sheer indifference.
Just tell me what you've got to say to me
I've been waiting for so long to hear the truth
It comes as no surprise at all you see
So cut the crap and tell me that we're through
(White Town, I Could Never Be Your Woman)
