The silence isn't empty, it's just full of things you aren't listening for. Like the tiny cracks forming in the glaze as it cools, the earth breathing beneath the floorboards, the way my own pulse drums when I finally stop trying to control everything. Makes me wonder what i've missed, trying so hard to fill every space. I swear, I used to hear everything. Every bird, every rustle, every whisper. Now it's all just a low hum of obligation drowning it out. When did I get so damn busy I stopped listening to the actual WORLD?