It's an empty existence without an excess of words. How soon my world has changed, becoming an acceptable facsimile of the dreaded time with Big Brother.
Still, nothing cuts deeper than being quiet. There is plenty to say and even more to be heard. But the needle sticks, the throat becomes dry and little that is furiously thought of, ever leaves the sanctuary of my mind. Indeed, it is a trial to withdraw from the clutches of a nightmare and dispel it simply as a bad dream.
To become sad, then angry when silenced. After all that, simply indifferent. One day, they shall find me slumped over, having passed away from the inability to hold myriad worlds in the heart and mind. And in such a death, I will have said everything I could have wanted to. Perhaps then, if only for sake of knowing what happened, these expressions of being will be well acknowledged.
#Lesson for the day: Talk, I'll listen.