Human

"She always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day".

I wake up around 3:45am, every morning. Like clockwork, my dreams stop and I'm forced back to consciousness, usually by the sound of my own voice. My sleep-talking is bizarre, something my roommate isn't too fond of, but has adapted to by thoroughly ignoring it.
Last night when I woke, my windows were open. A crisp breeze floated in from my seventh story perch, dragging with it the collective sounds of lives carrying on- living, right outside my four walls. Some nights I go to the window, to what seems like the edge, and press my forehead against the chilled glass. I close my eyes and stand there, with nothing but the screen, the glass and the darkness separating me, from the rest of my world.
       I listen for a while.
Blurbs of conversation flutter up from the staggeringly drunk in search of the safety of their beds. Laughter, trivial sounds- I don't open my eyes. Rap music bumps into their words from somewhere far off, and it cooks like a melodic jambalaya of sounds.
       It fades.
Someone is dragging their shoes as they walk. Someone is locking up their bike, the chains react violently against the metal rack and pierce the air. A car swooshes past on the still damp ground- they need to get their foot off the gas, I can hear my father getting livid as the tires spin faster, faster. The wind in the valley is blowing through the trees. I can hear it navigate around the sounds outside, slipping between branches, trying hard to leave them undisturbed, bringing me the complacent nostalgia of a childhood in the windy city. That thought is quickly shattered though, and I open my eyes to watch it slide to the floor. Ohh, but my eyelids want to close, and I let them, once again. I like to listen to life outside my window, when my body is tired but my head won't sleep. I listen again, this time harder, wanting to hear the familiar Quiet that I love so much.
     C'mon, c'mon...
A skateboard battles the pavement in a rumbling duel.
     C'mon, c'mon.....
I know she's there, I know she's waiting. I'm a veteran at this endless game of hide and seek, but Silence is asking me to try harder. I start to wonder how many others are up playing, sitting at their windows, looking out, searching for the still of the Silence too.
She arrives with the sun. I can't tell if I've fallen asleep, or if time just moves faster at the early hours of the morning. Silence now illuminates the mountains, embraces them with her lanky grip, and the world begins to melt. I breath out a sigh, and with it slip away my thoughts.
Silence is misunderstood. It's not absence of sound, but rather the moment of realization of pure existence in the world. She is responsible for cleansing the air of it's daily impurities, and allowing those listening the chance to purify themselves among the noise. I can still hear the grass existing, I can hear my pulse throb in my ears. I lock my eyes shut, as they should be, and listen. I can hear the feel of the wind, the vibrations of this Earth. I hear the taste of the fresh morning, listen to the melody in the warm, rising sun. Sometimes, Silence can seem so loud.