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Fill This Space

Every conversation she has ever had was whispered between her and something beyond her. It felt like someone she had known her entire life or even before she was born.

No one has ever heard me speak and there is not a soul who will and yet they will still listen.

“She’s so quiet.” They always say. I like it this way.

There is safety in the quiet. Speaking any louder than a mouse would be enough to shake my heart into submission. Whispers don’t demand that much of you. Whispers gently grab you. I’d say it’s like being in the bath and feeling the water move over your shoulders. You know it is there and it is calming but you can ignore it if you want to.

There is certainty in silence. When there’s the sound of nothingness I know for sure that I don’t know anything at all. When you sit in silence with me, I know that you don’t know what I do and every guess you make to know is just a whisper that I choose to ignore. I like it this way.

Still, I won’t say a word. If I answer, then you will stop asking. I don’t care if you leave because they always come back.

When I’m around you never know, but you feel me the most when I’m gone. That is why you always return to whisper to me, hoping that maybe this time some part of me will whisper back.

One day I might.

One day I may ignore this ancient voice in my chest that tells me this is the way things should be so that I can hear you say what you mean loud enough to fill the entire space of noise between us.

You would be the first to hear me speak.

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