Silence IS violent
and rage is loud,
but sometimes fists hit sand without
making a sound.
Figure it out.
are dead ends that see
ewe and you and me
as a dividend
not an investment.
And real friends,
hope fake friends,
get their shit together in the end.
Real friends may be
but FUCK THIS SHIT.
IT JUST IS.
My dad would give my brother, mother and I silent treatments when I was young. The “silent treatment” is probably the quickest way to induce temporary insanity from me. I loathe feeling like I lost my existence, but that’s what it was like, back when I was just a little ghost trying to make right whatever I had fallen short on, my father REFUSING TO SEE ME. His silence wouldn’t last longer than a week, but a week felt like an eternity.
He was only responding to stressors in the way he was taught… if life were a game of telephone, when he was met by his own father’s silence it would prolong itself for months at a time… Cycles like snowballs roll down hill. I’m grateful I did not experience silent treatments like those my dad had to survive UNTIL ADULTHOOD.
I AM NO SAINT. I was born into gray area…when cornered or weakened by abuse that I battled with anger… like a toxin, like poison… I lashed out like I did not know I was capable, I became just as emotionally abusive to people I care about as I had been experiencing.
– I HOPE THEY FORGIVE ME. But I forgive me, by actively spotlighting the weed, it’s origins, and preventing REPETITION.
My father and I still struggle to communicate…but now that I’m 38 and he’s 69? We can talk even without opening our mouths. We can’t give a silent treatment to one another if we wanted, it’s rather pointless-our facial expressions, sighs, and frustrated body language speak more than our words ever could… (wouldn’t have it any other way.) There has not been a single time, not once that I have not called out to my father and cried “HELP!” that he was not there within hours – be it car problems or work problems or a rainy day I cried not to be alone…