There is no need to explain to someone “above” you how it feels to be silenced. They’ll simply think they’re doing you a favor. To them you don’t have to deal with the hassle of being them, although you have to deal with their problems and vexations. They think they’re operating in your best interest although they take little time to know what your interests are. They’ll say things like “Don’t worry about that” or “let me handle it” as if you were a child and your issue is something above your skill level. Oh but how sweet it sounds to them as they smile. They truly believe their helping, but in the end you know this will only be one more thing held over your head. “Look at all I do for you.” They’ll remark when you have grown tired of holding your breath. When words have spilled from your lips as the contents of drunken stomach. When you tongue has lashed out from being bitten. When your head aches because your eyes can no longer bear the sight of them. When your heart sings of freedom of expression and nothing can lull the song that gives you sanity. Oh how they will lash out at you.
You will be the most ignoble of beings and ungrateful of creatures: and that’s okay. The worst of humans and more unworthy love and respect than a pet: and that’s okay. You’ll be nothing with them and no one will care: and that’s okay. That’s okay. That’s what you must tell yourself until you have lived long enough to realize in hindsight that it’s not okay: it’s fucking fantastic. The day is yours. Your mistakes, your follies, your rights, your wrongs, are all yours because you made the choice and it was not made for you. Your risk your reward. That’s all it means to be free. That’s all it means to be confident.
There are no magic pills that erase yesterday: it happened. There are no magic routines to help you ignore the melancholy: its there. Feigned happiness only fools you. Time does not heal all wounds. Some wound remain fresh as the day they were inflicted, but see them as rivers: rivers that canal through the heart straight to the pit of your stomach, rivers stem from your essence outward, rivers whose names are lost, but only known as Forgiveness and Empathy. The rivers are sources of water to nourish the thirsty, water to grow Eden and Hesperides, water that stems from the Barzakh to the extended arms of Oshun. Never step in these waters, for they are meant to heal others.
Give them to dry mouth of the silenced. Feed the fruits they grow to the injured. And never seek to be the silencer.
qklstill 