2 min read

Solitude is yearned when we have a bunch of company. But when we don't have that it becomes a lingering fear.

It has been eight days with out noises. Nothing to hear except the sounds of birds in my window and the annoying sound of the refrigerator once in a while. I was a believer in one's solitude. Being a solitudinarian was what i am good at. 

I was never good at talking with people and keeping the conversation interesting. I always get that awkward eye contact or be a guest to an uncomfortable silence in the middle of it.

After all i couldn't make any connection with people or make genuine friends. And now a growing fear is taking control of my whole body. The silence is disturbing me. I am hearing the sound of the silence.

I am hearing everything around me. The walls are talking, the papers on the desk are murmuring. The clothes, the bed sheet, the pillows, the books on the shelf, the curtain on the window, everything is making a sound. And i feel like i am the only one with out words to speak.

And now i wish i had someone to have a conversation with. At the morning, at the middle of the day, when i am having supper, when i am bored. When ever and where ever i want.

But what's the point of wishing things when half the problem is in my veins. So many regrets have been built with so many mistakes. And regret is what eats me from head to toe, piece by piece while i am alive.

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