Silence

A nice long drag out of my Dunhill. I hold the smoke in as much as my lungs will allow me and when I release it I follow it as it infects the air around it.

Control.

Hard thing to learn. Not many people master it. To know when to keep silent. To know when to sigh.

I’m afraid of the things I like. I like silence. I avoid it. It fills me up like a drug. It’s addictive. I’m waiting for the day when I will embrace it. When I will stop using words as shields to repel uncomfortable questions.

I want to live on a mountain with no company but uncaring trees and tired stones. Will anyone be there with me? To interrupt the whispers of the leaves? Will anyone else hear the water breathing? Do I want there to be anyone?