The Noisy Emptiness

Photo by Bogomil Mihaylov on Unsplash

Dear Young Jessica,

You lost your voice at the same age your daughter is now.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon. Inspiration hit like an undeniable urge. You sang one of your favorite songs at the time, pretending to perform in front of thousands. It was some of your best work yet. But it wasn’t appreciated by the real-life audience.

You received words as weapons and mistook preference for direction.

The volume wasn’t turned down; the audio was turned off.

There it remained for decades.

You didn’t know any better.

Eventually, both a backbone and thick skin formed. They were your armor. Almost nothing could harm you.

Instead, you became numb to it all. Nothing coming in; nothing going out.

Singing? A distant memory.

Voicing opinions? You wouldn’t dare.

Feathers weren’t to be ruffled. Eggshells pressed into the soles of your feet.

You’d been trained and groomed right where they wanted you.

But what was that ache, that noisy emptiness inside?

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