Shhh... silence

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At times when crimes rapidly increase, silence spreads around, poisoning countries, towns, cities, neighborhoods, people.

Fear, comes after silence and only helps decreasing the non-existant noice.
People are scared.
Scared because of the diseases, scared because of the maniac killers who walk around, scared because of people, scared because of their past, scared because of war, scared because of the murders and the rapes and the news that blow up their heads.
But they are also scared for!
Scared for their health, scared for their family, scared for their friends, scared for their home, scared for their country, scared for their future and their plans.

And when people are being buried in fear and uncertainty that's when silence thrives in and the static noise of fake happiness and freedom fill that gap with the faulty hope of finding normality and safety again.
So people start to pretend.

They pretend they are happy.
They pretend they are okay.
They pretend they are healthy.
They pretend they are sane.
They pretend they are normal.
They pretend they have succeeded.
They pretend they feel pretty.
They pretend they love.

They pretend they are dead.

Because if they were alive, they wouldn't have to pretend.
If they were alive and free they wouldn't be like this, they would be real and raw and honest.

But they are dead. Dead, for those who take control, and used, to create a little world filled with worthless human slaves that the only thing they are good at is keeping quiet, pretending everything is fine when it's not.
So the silence, keeps thriving.

There was always something weird hanging on the air of that village, since day one.

It could be detected on the relationships the habitants would create. But then again, it was a village after all, everything is weird there.

But slowly as the boy aged the fog in front of his younger innocent eyes disappeared and got reaplaced with the dark aura of survival.

Things that went unnoticed till the sweet age of ten started stand out more, yet he couldn't speak up... not yet.

So when his father entered the house and smelled like cheap cigarettes, he could only observe, know and keep quiet.

When the shouts of his parents formed into real, heavy words as he grew, he learned about manipulation and as the ages passed the hatred he felt started boiling his organs and his skin.

And at the end sweet thirteen weren't so sweet as he learned a new word -and world- called suicide.

Since then death became a friend and the more he emotionally died, somehow he felt more alive and suddenly silence wasn't enough.
He needed noice.
He needed to speak up and voice out his thoughts and scream and shout, yet he settled for the two dollar metal on his hand after scissors stopped being enough. 

By the age of sixteen he almost died thrice and he was the only one who knew.

Then things started being better till they got worse and then better again.

And it was around his seventeen birthday when he had almost settled for that silence crawling from the back of his head but the memories of his parents shouting silently, the memories of his classmates making fun of his body and their wish for him to commit suicide woke the fire in his heart and brought noises to his ears he had never heard before. That time at the end of his last summer as a high-schooler student made him realise she was not born for silence, he was born to speak up and stand out, he was born to defent and feel confident, he was born to love and care.

So instead of hoping for a changed, he did that change himself.

It all starts when you keep quiet.
You see the repeating patterns, the abusing behaviors, the manipulation but you stay silent.
It's not because you don't recognise their destructive consequences but because you don't want to accept it and because you are young and no one is going to believe you.

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