The Sound of Silence

If I were mute, it wouldn’t be so bad. If I had throat cancer, if my jaw was wired shut, if my tongue had been ripped out, then I could bear the silence.


Sometimes I think about taking a crowbar to my jaw and snapping it right off. Or taking a hammer to my teeth, sending splinters of enamel flying.

I can’t meet her gaze. I can’t even talk about it with my friends.

There are so many things I want to say. Yes, please. Stop that. Come and walk with me. I love you.

It’s got to end. Soon.