SILENCE THAT SCREAMS

There is a kind of loneliness that does not arrive loudly. From the outside, your life moves normally. You have your routines and live life as best as you can. You continue becoming someone capable, productive, dependable.

However, what people don’t see is that underneath all of it, there is a low hum. A lull.

A quiet longing sitting somewhere deep in your chest like background noise you cannot switch off.

But maybe “quiet” is the wrong word. Because it is not quiet at all.

IT SCREAMS.

A scream that never ends that you somehow tune it out without even realizing you did.

But every once in a while, you notice it again and when you do, it pulls you back in and consumes you.

You keep trying to get rid of it. You think maybe accomplishment will silence it. Maybe success will. Maybe if you stay busy enough, entertained enough, fulfilled enough, desired enough, it will finally disappear.

So you try. You throw yourself into work. Into goals. Into media consumption. Into conversations and relationships and nights out and little moments meant to make life feel fuller. And sometimes it works for a while… at least you think it does.

The feeling softens during laughter. It quiets when you are distracted. It fades during good days, during movement, during noise.

But it never actually leaves.

It waits.

As I was writing this, I realized that maybe this longing is trying to teach me something. Maybe some forms of longing are simply proof that there are still parts of us capable of hoping, reaching, loving, and wanting more from life.

To still ache means there is still something inside you that believes connection, meaning, and belonging exist somewhere beyond your current horizon.

So until the time the silence stops screaming, I’ll learn to listen to what it’s trying to say. Who knows, maybe it’s a melody and I just need to tune in to the right frequency.