avia | "I carry silence with me the way others carry snapshots of loved ones"

A shared story that I write with

whatawaytoburn... the first (quoted) part is theirs, the second part is mine.

I just really liked this, it says a lot about me, and, I wanted to keep it somewhere that's not Tumblr, because, Tumblr always feels less permanent to me for some reason I don't know.

Silence is quiet and no one is surprised. She sits in your lap and vibrates happily but makes no noise. She is simply there, a comfortable weight against you, reassuring in her soft way.

She’ll be there for you, always there if you need her. Never doubt that.

You run a hand over her, stroking her and finding reassurance in her presence. You look up at him and know he’s doing the same thing, know that he has his own Silence that he’s leaning on. It’s all right, you don’t mind.

Some people think it’s rude to do such things, to lean so heavily on Silence or Hope or Happiness but that’s what they are there for, that’s why they come to you, to be there for you, to care for you, to support you.

Your hands keep running over Silence and your eyes close, revelling in it, the quiet peace that sits between the four of you.

Outside a car drives by and you can feel Silence stir in your lap. A lugh maybe? Something amused. Even the outside world can’t break this.

And you are grateful.

Silence is one of my secret lovers.

We’re not what most people mean by lovers, but there’s not another good word for someone you curl up with, holding them close, in the late hours of night and feel so at peace. There’s not another good word for someone you can always run to, and they will wrap you up in their arms and run their fingers through your hair and brush their hand against your lips, saying with silent not-words, ssh, it’s okay.

Silence protects me, and Silence understands me, and anyone who thinks this love is wrong… do they care enough, to help me the same way she has helped me? Are they willing, to do all the things for me she has done, since I was just a child? Then they should not judge.

She is not the only secret lover I have. I run through the woods with Wonder, holding his hand, climbing on his back, laughing as I wrap my small hands around his big, tall antlers and feel him run faster, faster, until I can’t breathe. Wonder is there with me in many places: when I travelled on the trains of Tokyo, he was there, and when I gaze up at the stars in a new city, he was there, and when I open a new book and smell its pages, he is there, with a hand on my shoulder, smiling, waiting.

Happiness, when I go out I always try to go with Happiness. I let her hair fall over my face and I look at the world through the shining threads, and I see the beauty that was hidden from me before. And, talking of Beauty, xe is a close companion of mine, too, tall and androgynous in my mind’s sight, wearing aristocratic clothes and a perfect haircut, and a mouth stained red with berries. I am too too drunk on xir often, I let xir spin me and dance me and take me for the wildest rides until the colours are spinning in my eyes. Of all of them, xe owns me, and I move to xir music. I don’t know any other way. Xe was there for me when I was just a baby, playing with the light through the window, turning it into patterns and reflections to fascinate my mind.

Obsession, a close twin of wonder, smelling like perfume and throbbing like a heartbeat. Wildness, the little fox, that I will see on Wonder’s shoulder as he gallops through the forest like the stag-king he is. They are all my secret lovers, I have curled up with their fur and feathers and skin on my shoulder and cheek and stomach, I feel them enchant me in the middle of the night, and make me come alive.

I could not live without them.