Too Quiet To Feel Alive.

It was around evening that very day. I took a nap in the afternoon and woke up around 6:30pm. I didn't know what woke me up; I can't say.

That was my first evening at home in a very long time. I arrived home from the hospital just the night before; it was even midnight already, so I wasn't really myself. I just ate a little food, took my pills, and slept off. I did the same in the morning too, ate, and just slept off again. Not only that, but I have just been sleeping all through. That afternoon I just wanted to rest a little, but I didn't know when I slept off. Again. But when I woke up this evening, it was different; unlike the other times I woke up to eat and sleep back, this time it wasn't that. I woke up because something felt different, more like something was missing.

There was absolutely no sound at all, I mean...at all. Everywhere was quiet. No side talks, no arguments, no hospital tray sounds, no bed creaking sounds, no shouts of patients and relatives, not even a distant one, nothing at all. I couldn't say if anyone was home because it was just silent all through. Even the rolling fan seems to make no sound.

And in all honesty, that kind of silence was not normal.

"Nah, this is not normal." I said to myself, trying to hear if I will hear myself.

Because for a long time, my life has been a loud one, let's just say the direct opposite of what's happening now. There have been various voices: patients crying out in pain, nurses calling out to doctors, emergencies, beeping of machines, prayers here and there, and a lot more. And I became used to that noise; it got to a point I felt I needed it as it made me feel still alive and here.

So, having to see and be experiencing this kind of quietness feels somehow. It didn't feel like peace; it didn't feel like what I have been used to. I sighed, sat up on the bed, and reached for my phone. I checked; there were no notifications, messages, or even a missed call. As if I'm not even existing. My mind quickly went back to those first few months in the hospital when my phone wouldn't stop ringing with calls and messages from friends trying to reach out to me and check in on me.

I dropped the phone, and that was when I started paying attention to where I was. I stood up to look around. It's not night yet, just evening, and I could still see very well. I saw how neat and well arranged the room was. Everything is in place and within reach. Arranged in a way that even if there's no light and it's dark, I could walk directly to where a certain thing is and pick it up without tripping over another thing littered around.

It was just the exact way I love my space. No scattered stuff around. I walked to the window and pushed it open. Well, the last I remembered, my window did make a sound. But this time, it didn't. Didn't even sound like I opened anything. I almost questioned my aliveness.

As I was about to turn away from the window, I heard a distant sound. It was the sound of a dog barking. But it only did for a few seconds, and then it stopped. It's strange, or maybe I thought. I leaned my back against the window frame and smiled.

"So, this is it? This is peace." I said to myself.

I remember imagining the exact moment some time ago. That I will definitely rest from all of these surgeries and hospital smells. That one day all these pitiful eyes looking at me will stop, and I will finally be at a quiet place... resting.

But as I stood near the wall, I felt a little different. Maybe because of what I have been used to. I felt empty, like I wasn't alive, existing, or useful. Like something I have been used to—a sound I have been used to for a long time—has been turned off, and now, I don't know what to do with myself or my thoughts.

I was tempted to step out, but I didn't. I just walked back up to bed and lay there with my eyes facing the wall. Not only that, but I was lost in thought for what I guess was hours, because everywhere was getting dark already, and I didn't even reach out to my phone to check the time or anything again. Right there on the bed, a thought came to my mind quietly, like a thief in the night.

What if nothing is wrong? That was the thought.

I turned to face the wall and pondered it. What if this is exactly why I've fought so hard to stay alive? What if this is what I've been running towards and I didn't recognize it... because it wasn't what I thought or what I was used to?

I didn't know how and when I slept off again. I was woken up the following morning with a knock on my door. It was my mom.

"Good morning, dear. You slept well?" She asked as she stepped in with pap, milk, and akara (bean cake) on the tray in her hand.

"Seems I did." I said, nodding and rubbing my eyes.

"Good, you really need that rest. I've noticed you've been sleeping a lot. So I didn't come by so as not to disrupt your rest." She said, smiling as she dropped the food on the stool next to my bed.

I just smiled.

"Make sure to eat it before it gets cold; call me if you need anything." She said and stepped out.

I sat up on the bed immediately after she left. I looked around the room, and it was still the same. Calm, neat, orderly, and quiet.

The difference now is it didn't feel strange like it was the day before.

Later that day, I was sitting on the bed reading a book when my phone made a sound. I checked and saw it was a message; I didn't open it. I just smiled and dropped it back down.

The quiet was still there, but it didn't feel strange or as if something was missing or turned off....it felt like something was waiting. And for the first time I wasn't struggling or trying to fill it. I just sat there...in it.

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