Solitude

I talk. I am that person who will fill every void with laughter and words since it can be done. I joke. I explain. I explain again. If I am surrounded by people, I eavesdrop, add my two pennies to every conversation and I argue. On arguments that weren’t mine to begin with.

I feel compelled to take sides. Because the silent are guilty.

I defend always. I offend very often. And I cry sometimes too.

Expressing myself is more important to me than the peace of the people I work and live with. Because I think I hate regret. And regret is very often driven by the things I choose not to say than the things I do say. So I talk and express and opine and argue.

But sometimes, when walking on a silent street or sitting at work when the whole world has gone back to their families and friends, I feel myself.

I calm my mind into listening to what it really wants to say. I let it write.

Because after asking myself multiple times, “Why I write?” I answered, “Because that is when you think.”