‘I write to be seen through the clarity of my words.
I’ve listened to dozens of voices, birds chirping of cars passing, the rumble of the thunder and the droplets of the rain on my window pane.
And out of all the noises I’ve heard i can’t quite pinpoint the sound of my own heart breaking. —
I’m numb, lost in transitions that never happened.
The shattered sounds of graveyards of broke hearts I’ve walked upon made me cold to the touch, stoic in motion. —
If bitterness was a sound it would sound like the crushing of a thousand bones or would it sound like the wind howling across the four corners of the world?
I will not hear the sound of my own self destruction, like van Gough I’ll cut my ear off to stop the noises from percolating my mind.’