The sound of silence keeps me awake at night. I hear with my eyes and see with my ears. I cannot keep still even if I try to force myself. I have trouble staying awake, trouble falling asleep. I’m never hungry but feel as if my stomach is empty all the time. I keep thinking about people that had lived in 13th century. I don’t know what is the connection to my daily life with these thoughts but I certainly know they affect me in some way. I have some wild ideas and fantasies but still something prevents me from writing them all down. Something prevents me from writing at all. My keyboard has failed me. My thoughts have disappeared into sleepless nights and empty expressions. At night I can hear the rain on my windows, I can hear my mother wake up to go to the bathroom; I can feel the cold of early hours as they slowly tick closer announcing the end of the world. I can feel and absorb everything at night, but almost nothing stays in my memory. I forget everything. But I try to listen. I listen to the silence. It is the louder silence I have ever heard. Because it is mine. It has been with me for as long as I could remember. It has been depriving me of my sleep since 1969.
this an introduction to my new short (non)fiction story, which i have been writing for the past weeks now. but i’m unable to finish it because it never seems like a good time to start. it was supposed to be a memoir, then i decided to write it as an fictional diary entry, then i realized it was more like a piece of writing from a novel of some russian author. and now it just ended up here i opened it by accident on my computer and decided it was time to post it as it is.
because the initial idea and purpose of this writing is lost forever.