I loved to talk. I loved noise. Without these, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t breathe. I felt broken. Shattered. Nothing could fix me. I was gone. 

Then, a small noise was made. Whether it was a finger tapping or a cricket chirping, it brought me back from the deadly place called the imagination. Noise filled the void of silence that I grew to fear. It distracted me from my own thoughts. It saved me.