Have you ever felt like silence could be both your greatest ally and your most challenging companion?
Oh, silence sings from within, so deep,
A melody of thoughts, a peaceful sweep.
Yet, when it echoes from those we adore,
It becomes a shadow we can’t ignore.
One brings wisdom, a quiet reflection,
The other, unanswered, stirs deep introspection.
I sat on the rooftop one fine dusk, feeling defeated by life. Closing my eyes, I heard nothing. Slowly, the noises from the bustling street, where everyone was hurrying to return to their nests, faded away, leaving me in utter silence. At that moment, I realized, like always, he had followed me. But this time, I decided to ask him the question that had been bothering me the most:
“Why is it always you who shows up when I try to sit alone and find answers to the questions life throws at me?”
He responded calmly, “Think about it yourself. Is there anyone better than me to help you find peace while solving your problems?”
I pondered his question for a while. Laughter, commotion, urgency, celebration, conflict, and conversation—all these environments exist, but none provide the right stage for deep introspection or problem-solving. I nodded in agreement, “Yes, you’re right.”
But another question lingered in my mind. I turned to him and said, “There’s still something about you that bothers me.”
He raised an eyebrow and asked curiously, “And what might that be?”
I carefully explained, “Your presence for a short while is like a warm blanket on a cold night—comforting and much-needed. But when you decide to stay longer, that ease starts to fade. Your prolonged company replaces comfort with feelings of loneliness. When no other environment joins me, my mind spirals into overthinking my past thoughts and actions. You trap me in your bubble, which feels nearly impossible to burst.”
“Also, you in social settings often lead to miscommunication. People perceive your presence as indifference, rejection, or disinterest, creating distance in my relationships. And when you stay too long with someone I care about, it hurts. It feels like they’re rejecting me, as if I’ve done something wrong and they no longer want me around. Your persistence creates a stillness that feels stagnant, even threatening, making me fear I’ll never meet joy, excitement, chaos, or calmness again. I enjoy your company occasionally, but not when you refuse to leave.”
He seemed to reflect on my words for a moment. Then he replied, “Your thoughts are valid, and I understand your concerns. But perhaps you’re overlooking the good in my friendship. I offer you peace and spirituality amidst your everyday hustle. It’s me with whom you can think about your strengths and weaknesses to improve yourself further. I help you become a better listener, allowing others to open up to you. I minimize distractions, enabling you to concentrate and engage in deep work. I even lower your stress levels, giving your mind a chance to relax and rejuvenate.”
“That said, you are not wrong either. I can be like a double-edged sword—bringing peace, clarity, and focus when embraced mindfully, but also discomfort, loneliness, or miscommunication when misused or misunderstood. My impact depends entirely on the context and how you choose to interpret and interact with me. You can have me as a companion and still be misunderstood by others, but the choice is yours.”
His words gave me much to reflect upon. Everything he said made sense. I stayed with him a little longer, thinking through my troubles, until I found the clarity I had been searching for. Then I went back to my room, where his other friends—Chaos and Laughter—were waiting for me with my siblings.
