Echoes.

He had seen the world. He had felt it with his hands, his heart, and he had heard the sound of heartbeats and gentle breaths. Baby laughter, the rythm of the ocean, soft skin and awkward couples. He had felt fur under his palms and heard small, satisfied purrs when he pet his old neighbor's cat as a child, and he had torn off daisy petals one by one while lying with his back against the damp grass underneath him. He had seen the eyes of strangers, the kindness of friendship and shared his passions. 
He didn't see things anymore, nor did he feel anything. A silence he couldn't shake off seemed to be the only one kept by his side, slowly empowering and coating him. Often had he wondered when his first encounter with the silence took place, but he always failed to find the answer, leaving him sleepless for days entangled in thoughts. Maybe he had always ignored the silence, maybe it had always been watching him from afar. What bothered him was that nobody seemed to be able to hear this silence, this loud and clear, distorted and vague silence of his. An all-consuming dark noise that killed all the other sounds around him. 
He had tried to fight the internal hollowness of his, but it seemed like nothing would fit, that all shapes were the wrong ones. But he had tried every shape he had ever known of, and along the road of finding this piece, he had lost hope for ever finding the missing thing inside. Maybe he was defect, maybe he was broken. He had tried to repair himself a few times, placed himself in chairs in front of faceless strangers, fumbling with his fingers and not knowing where to look when he slowly unraveled every corner of his mind. The faceless stranger would listen and nod, and evry now and then scribble down a few words. The time is up, see you next week, here's your money, thank you. Repeat. Even though he tried to sing out the silence for others, the sound grew louder, more static and violent. 
 And here he was. How long his back had been placed against the same wall in his apartment, he wasn't sure anymore. He remembered tracing the same pace for a while, trying to get the restless part of himself out, trying to kick out the thoughts that kept coming back to him. He remembered facing tiles with water running down his face onto his collarbones and pants, and the piercing light bulb swaying above his head. He had seen the traces of footprints across his bedroom floor go from wet and shiny, to non-existing as they fled through the carpet. 
 He remember biting into his knuckles in distress over not being able to get this silence out of his head, felt his world spinning before him and his insides twisting, turning themselves inside out and ejecting bile. He had felt his heart drumming so loud inside his chest, he wasn't sure it was his own he heard, he had felt a hopelessness more powerful than he had ever known of. And here he was.
 The walls in his bedroom had gone from having a dark orange glow, to black and now a dusty cobalt blue shone through his window. The town floors under him was slowly waking up, and within a while, children would head off to school singing songs and chatter with their schoolmates. Cars would purr and drive off, a new day was waiting. But when he didn't even understand the point of yesterday and the day before that, how should he welcome today? 
 Lifting himself up from the spot he had sat on for so long with realizing, his feet slowly found a way across the carpet that once felt so soft against his soles.  Arms hanging loose, he felt the wind blow against his face as he positioned himself in front of the open view. The sun was rising, birds were chirping. His feet up on the edge, rise and shine, have a nice day, see you later. He knew he wasn't big enough to house this crowd anymore. This silence only seemed to drown his screams and left him breathless, and he was tired of battling. He just wanted some rest. Sleep. 
 His fingers let go of the walls besides him, felt the embrace of the wind on his skin. The silence stopped, the pieces disappeared. Like the footprints on his carpet.

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I haven't written in... ages. Decided to just not care, and not read through it or think about it that much, I have to let go of my expectations of myself. So yup!