Love is noise. The noise of pleasure and wounded flesh, the sounds of the impacient belly where your head rests, and the murmur of bus conversations over a long distance call. The hammering of blood in your brain trying to scream ‘always’ and ‘never’ at the same time.
And if love is noise, the opposite to love has to be silence. Maybe that is why, since Hector gave me that last kiss on the forehead, like a child who deserves no explanations, I hadn’t been able to unplug my earphones. Before that, I had never found much joy in listening to music, defending with the conviction of a visionary that my brain worked better without distractions, like if my usual thoughts deserved anything more than a basic level of conciousness.
What I did not say then, not even to myself, was that distractions were already there, in the shape of a constant buzz made of doubts and fears. During the years I shared with Hector, I had always coexisted with hesitation. There wasn’t a single day I didn’t live with the possibility of leaving, weighing the pros and cons of solitude.
Smothered by my own arrogance, I had always assumed that I was the only one hearing that noise. Now that the innocent click of a closing door had eradicated all other sound, silence was unbearable.
For the tenth time tonight, I turned the volume a little louder and tried again to sleep.
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And if love is noise, the opposite to love has to be silence. Maybe that is why, since Hector gave me that last kiss on the forehead, like a child who deserves no explanations, I hadn’t been able to unplug my earphones. Before that, I had never found much joy in listening to music, defending with the conviction of a visionary that my brain worked better without distractions, like if my usual thoughts deserved anything more than a basic level of conciousness.
What I did not say then, not even to myself, was that distractions were already there, in the shape of a constant buzz made of doubts and fears. During the years I shared with Hector, I had always coexisted with hesitation. There wasn’t a single day I didn’t live with the possibility of leaving, weighing the pros and cons of solitude.
Smothered by my own arrogance, I had always assumed that I was the only one hearing that noise. Now that the innocent click of a closing door had eradicated all other sound, silence was unbearable.
For the tenth time tonight, I turned the volume a little louder and tried again to sleep.
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