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| Photo taken last year at Globe's Netflix/Stranger Things' Booth, BHS |
I always treat silence as good. I don't know who told me (or if I am really told) that silence is a good way to stop yourself from spending too much energy on the negatives. Hence, if you stay silent you won't be saying anything bad towards a situation. I grew up knowing this. And I know its good. For the better. For me.
Today, I stayed silent. But I spoke. I spoke loud.
A realization triggered me today: being silent is a choice. Let me take you on a scene a few months back - whenever my boyfriend and I fights, I stay silent. I stay quiet and let him do the talking. On my mind I was talking to him, shouting at him for being insensitive or for being whoever he is at that point. But I didn't say anything. It pisses him off that I stay quiet. Silence is his enemy. And even though in the first place I know that whenever I let him talk and rant and get mad, I still push myself to not say anything and just sit still looking afar. "Ano, magsalita ka naman" - this is what he always say. And after his rants, I talk. I know i'm confusing, but that's just my way of handling the situation. Or maybe more like handling us? And it pisses him off more that whenever he's done talking, I do the questioning. He tells me, "Kanina salita ako ng salita di mo ko kinakausap, tapos ngayon gusto mo magusap tayo. Gulo mo." And I reason out, "Nagiisip ako". Which is true in my defense, I was really trying to think of what should I properly say because I don't want to say things that I didn't mean.
So earlier today, we got into a fight. Not getting into details but this is the saddest fight we had been, or so for me. As my usual self, I didn't talk. Althroughout our ride for maybe like an hour and a half, I'm just sitting on the passenger seat and being quiet. I know I may look like mataas ang pride but no, I just want him to take hints. He stopped getting mad, he asked me for some food when we go on drive thru, he offered me fries and he hasn't heard anything from me. I don't think what I did was good, but I don't feel sorry for it either. After the silence, I told him I was just waiting for his quick gesture as to close our fight - a tap on my hand, a kiss on the back of my arms - but there's none. My silence was killed him as my heart afloats. I feel like he didn't know me at all.
I can't blame myself. He told me I should've approached him first since that's what I keep on telling him before - whoever is at fault musn't always the one to say sorry. And even though I know that I should do that, I didn't. I didn't want to fake myself by being too mature just for the sake of maturity. I wanted something. Call it immature or what, my silence kept me and my beliefs tacked - I needed a gesture to ease my sadness. What makes me more sad is that I was the only one who needs it, and what makes it even more and more sad is that I don't know how should I explain what I am feeling.
He pushed me unto my red line of silence. I broke it. And for the first time I realize my silence was even more loud than the shouting I did. I never shouted like that, but I think that's just me being sad and not mad. I feel the sadness crawled in as we drove uptown. I tried to keep my cool by being quiet and I didn't. I though bursting it out would mean letting the shattered pieces get out of my system, but I didn't get the memo that it was just the beginning.
This post isn't about how we fought. Realizations kicked me in the butt, I needed an outlet.
Silence has thought me to be fair. Fair for myself, and fair for the one i'm giving them to. All along I thought that's what I need. But how can you be silent when there's no noise in the first place? We choose. We pick where and why and where we be quiet. And today as I had fought it, i'm still choosing to be mum about what goes on my head. I choose to be quiet. And i'd be choosing silence as long as no one has been hearing no more from me. And even though I know I can't do that, it stills scares me that sooner I would be able to be that.