Why must one be silent to be heard? Listen.

Why must one be silent to be heard? Listen...

Everyone has a voice. The music doesn't need to stop. If one listens, it makes all the difference. Something as simple as a genuine smile or a warm hug makes a difference. Don't you think it's strange that just listening makes a person feel so much better already? Just the feeling of someone listening makes one less lonely person. But what about those who don't cry? What about those who keep a key? What about those who are scared of walking the line? What about those who got invisible tears? What about them? Listen. Pause. Listen. Just listen. Our hearts are meant to keep us alive. Our hearts are meant to feel. Our hearts are meant to love. If we breathe, if our hearts beat, if we feel but call ourselves numb, we are half dead. No one is numb. "If we FEEL but call ourselves numb..." because no one is numb. I find myself numb sometimes. But I can't deny that I still feel. I say "I am numb." but I still feel. The feeling of numbness. I guess it's the most ironic thing. But it does happen to me. To anyone. When something goes wrong. When we get tired. When we get our hearts broken. When we just don't care. But... Feelings never leave me. Feelings never leave. I guess I call it an excuse so that I may escape feelings. Feelings I don't want to feel. Feelings I don't want to know I have. Feelings I don't wan't to admit. Feelings that I don't want to entertain. That is when I am "numb"... That is the FEELING of NUMBNESS. But I wrote this note to ask why one must be silent to be heard. It is so important to be heard. It is important to listen. It is important to listen with your heart. In my dictionary, JUDGING is the antonym of LISTENING. Not everyone who looks like she/he has everything has everything. So you'll never know unless you listen. I've said "listen" 11 times so far. But that's not important. When you listen, don't take note of the words. Take note of the message. Like a song. Listen to a song. Listen to the words alone. You might appreciate the song. But listen to a song. Listen to the message of the song. You'll not only appreciate the song. You'll love it. You'll get a feeling. If you don't, you didn't listen. You didn't listen. I've said "listen" 18 times. Does it matter? No.

Richard Cory
Edwin Arlington Robinson


WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich,—yes, richer than a king,—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Someone who had it all. Seemed to. Here's another story close to my heart. Someone I used to know, Karla Escoto, died recently. I admired her a lot. She was beautiful, talented, and smart. Her album was soon to be released. I looked up to her as others did. But she's gone. She shot herself. I still could not understand why a girl like her would. I still can't figure it out. No one saw it coming. Not even her family. So why? Why? If someone cared to listen. Listen to her silent cry. If she was heard. If, if, if only. What could've happened? She still could've killed herself. But she also could've thought twice.

What about those who don't want to be heard? I don't think there is such a thing. Listen... Just listen.

Love,
ANDREA

Listen. Read between the lines.

Note:
I recently found out from a friend that it was exactly because she was not listened to.
In the suicide note, it said:
"Parents and teachers, listen to your children." Karla Escoto

Please, listen.