Here’s the thing about good stories, you never quite know when they’re over. You’re always waiting for the next plot point, the next big turn of events. Maybe that’s what we like…something that keeps us on our toes long after its over-so much so that we don’t even realize its over.

I’ve learned to navigate through the quiet, I’ve learned to go through the motions of the monumental and the mundane without you by my side. But it hasn’t been easy. The thing about silence is that it’s more frightening than any fight or arguement, it pierces through you and never quite leaves you. You hear the silence. Most people don’t get it, but if you ask me, silence is the most audible thing in the world—mostly because we’re not listening for it. My old roommate always needed to have the television on in the background right before she fell asleep. Everyday, it was the static of aimless conversation that lulled her to sleep. I think I finally get it now, there’s something comforting about conversation-something eternal. You ever stand right in the middle of Penn Station and hear all the sounds but can’t latch onto a single conversation because it’s so constant but still so fleeting? People are talking, and theyre walking and before you get a hold of a solid sentence, they’re gone. Retrospectively, that’s how relationships work. One minute you’re laying there talking about inventions, pizza toppings and ice cream flavors and the next minute….you’re alone. And it’s quiet.