3. When Silence Doesn’t Mean Peace

Some silences don't come to bring peace — but to conceal chaos.
They are not calm — they are a hiding place.
These are the silences that slip in between two people when there's no courage left to say what already hangs in the air.
When truth no longer asks for words — just lowered eyes.
When closeness hasn't vanished, but no one dares to check if it still breathes.

It's not hatred that brings them — but fear.
Fear that a word might shatter something fragile.
Fear that a question might trigger an avalanche.
Fear that we no longer know how to speak — without defense.

In such silence, every word sounds either too loud — or entirely wrong.
So we keep quiet.
And the longer it lasts, the more it resembles peace.
But in truth — it's a freezing.
Because truth can be uncomfortable,
but silence is the slow dying of a connection.
Not out of hatred. Not out of indifference.
But out of exhaustion. Out of confusion. Out of misunderstanding.

But maybe — just maybe — the next time silence arrives,
we don’t need to break it with noise.
Maybe we should stay in it long enough
to hear what inside us is longing to be said.

Because sometimes, even silence can give birth to a beginning.
Not when we're certain — but when we stop pretending.
When, for the first time, we choose to listen — to both ourselves and the other.
We may not sound perfect then.
But we will — finally — sound alive.