There’s an unspoken pact amongst all individuals to never say a word when there’s an established fact roaming around. Everybody knows but find it better to not say a word
Like if you see two long lines on my wrist, you will be amongst hundreds who see them. And among hundreds who never said a word.
If you see a mother struggling to keep her son sit silently in the corner after twenty protests and threats, you’ll be among all the other witnesses who avoided eye contact and thought ‘what a mess’.
There are some things that just become routine. Like how I comb my hair every day in the morning and no one says a word. It’s an established fact.
Like how I come with my mascara running one day and no one says a word. My father died. It’s not to be talked about.
I see the silent stares and hear the unspoken words being shouted in my subconscious but on the surface, it’s calm.
“Hi, Betty. Another coffee, please? No sugar this time.”
This isn’t silence. It’s much worse. It’s enforced silence that comes as a result of ‘Not getting into this mess’.
But it’s not everybody’s shit to deal with.
So I put LSD in her coffee. And I tattooed my arm. I started wearing waterproof mascara and then jumped on a bus to nowhere.
I talked my head off to a hippie who had his earphones on the whole time. I told him every secret dark thought I’d had and how I tried to kill myself in perfect detail.
I yelled when the bus stopped and walked in the hottest temperature my skin had felt for what seemed like miles.
But the enforced silence just wouldn’t leave my side when the cars passed by staring at the same old hitchhiker.
When the biker turned his head to eye her over, same old thought. Not one word. Everybody knows what to do in this situation. Never trust strangers. But well, she was defying what everybody was so sure about.
So she jumped on the bike and started singing. The shittiest and saddest songs she had heard of. And he dropped her off at the next gas station.
She fell, miserably into a bad mood from where it was always hard to revive her soul back. But revive it she must, right?
There was a lot more to defy. Nah, everyone knows you should fight the darkness in those times so she succumbed to it and bought a cigarette
Lit it right there
Let the burning lighter fall to the ground. Let the smoke fill her lungs, and the fire her skin.
There was a psycho chick who blew up a gas station. No one came to claim her body.
It was such a tragedy.
Yet no one really talks about it.