Silence is louder than noise.

It was 5:30 p.m. on a random Wednesday in my office when the employees started leaving. Until then, the office was noisy — the fast typing on keyboards, mice constantly clicking, teams talking loudly, giggles and laughter echoing — but suddenly, the place felt so quiet. No noise ever bugs me as much as silence does, and in that particular instant, I realised how loud silence could be. I told my colleague, “This silence feels so loud it’s deafening,” and she turned to look at me, her brows knitting together in an expression that basically said, “Huh?” That’s when I knew — not everyone feels the same. 

That moment made me pause — I fell into my usual rhythm of pensiveness. I remembered how I’ve always preferred a noisy environment to a quiet one. I know it makes no sense, but I concentrate better that way. When it’s noisy, I can work a little harder to filter what I want to hear — but when it’s silent, that deafening quiet makes it so hard to focus. I like having the TV on when I’m texting a friend. I like listening to songs when I’m trying to get work done. I like reading aloud because I remember things better that way. Even writing this now, it barely makes sense… but it’s just how I feel. Filtering through the usual hustle and bustle of a noisy background feels more productive than sitting through silent torture. 

Maybe it feels like torture because, whenever it’s quiet, I’m forced to deal with the thoughts inside this thick skull of mine — thoughts that creep slowly into my heart and lungs, tightening them, making it hard to breathe. Isn’t it ironic? I’d rather deal with the world’s noises than my own. But I can’t help it. I know, one way or another, I have to face my inner demons. And I’m really trying — believe me. But those inside voices of mine keep knocking on every door and leave me without peace. What do I do?