I wonder about the silence- about all the things we choose not to say in between. What lies there? What is being left unsaid in your commas and your abbreviations? Are there secrets there? Or is it just that: silence?
Silence has its own sound though.
I think that it’s slightly ironic- you hear a sad song and think of her, while I listen to the same song and thing of you. I guess someone is always hurting and there’s always someone else hurting them. Everything comes back around eventually.
I wonder which is worse- the silence or actually hearing what else there is to say.