we were younger then but i can still read the words across your chest pouring from your mouth and ran like rivers down your neck.

I hate the awkward silence that fills up a room at the end of a conversation. The one at the end of a phone call is especially deafening because your ears have been ringing with the sound of your own voice mumbling yeahs, I knows, and tell me about its for the better part of two hours and to finally have nothing to agree with can be very overwhelming. Silence is actually not very silent at all, really, because there is always noise. As long as you are breathing, there is always noise. Trying to find absolute silence to help me sleep proves to be impossible because I can still hear the faint tick, tick of my alarm clock or the sound of my restless sighing that seems to reverberate off my bedroom walls ... absolute silence is a myth.

I have never liked being the last one awake in a room because you always still have so many things to think and say but nobody is awake to hear them or care, but you need to get them out of your head before you feel like you could explode. Sometimes, sometimes I talk just to hear myself talk which sounds self-absorbed or insane - which it probably is a little bit of both - but I occasionally feel the need to vocalize an interior thought before it gets eaten alive by tangent upon tangent of completely unrelated events. Something always reminds you of something which always reminds you of something and before you know it, you don't even know what you were thinking about in the first place. Sometimes I need to talk so I don't feel so alone in my thoughts and sometimes I hum or sing and sometimes I write them down somewhere, on napkins and notebooks. Days later, after I've had a self-proclaimed epiphany, I find my thoughts scattered everywhere in my house like missing puzzle pieces needing to be fit together. "What is closure?" is scrawled on a napkin and the answer, its partner, is in a notebook that has long been abandoned in an old box in the spare bedroom: "It is what it is." And so it goes, and so it goes.