There was a harshness to the voice that everyone heard but no one understood. It's as though she was the only one who could hear the malice it truly held. If the voice itself could be a creature, it would be something strong and proudly independent with a darker shadow that would animate and kill without warning.
The voices of those close to people are supposed to make them feel protected, valued, safe, confident... what had gone so horribly wrong? How is it that the voice of one who claimed to love her was so often driven to spit venom or ooze a sticky, foamy, palpable disapproval?
The voice itself had become a pin prick. The person attached to it, a volatile lightning cloud. Pins were delicate things. They were constantly being used in the example of a silent and empty room where the only thing heard was the light 'tink' sound of a dropped pin. They were so light, yet they drew blood and could pierce through the human body faster than anticipated with the slightest wrong move.
Waiting on pins and needles.
That was more appropriately ominous. Lightning clouds could be beautiful, but their root defining characteristic was that they were unpredictable. A tree who had endured a thousand storms could at once be consumed and twisted by a single strike of lightning despite hundreds of years of survival. All the tree's history and strength... gone in an instant.
If we were asked "What are most people afraid of?" The answer would be, "Death."
We are taught to fear it... or more appropriately, to fear the things that cause it.
May I ask you though what must be worse than the path to death?
The answer is Repetition.
Heal – destroy. Progress – break down. Grow – burn.
It's true that in all properties of life most often these processes end positively. The problem is that we are human... and humans are simply not the same.
There is a hypothesis that each person contains a 'self'. Something that defines exactly who they are, yet whom they themselves do not actually understand.
Now, what happens then when you break the physical body? Well, that's a path towards death. In the context I'm discussing, that matter is irrelevant.
How about the mind then?
To have a mind so fragile that merely the sound of a voice... one more interaction can reverse months, years of healing in a -^v-----------.
A voice who despises change. One who mocks others for the same. A hidden violence that no one sees. Damaging and violent... no reprieve.
To own a voice like this... and never see the stitches it has torn open time and time again. When the person you claim to love is crying on the floor. You cannot see the blood. You are not hitting them. You do not hold the knife. Of course not. You never would.
So why are they crying? Why are they in pain? They're insulting you by being this way. You're so good. You're so smart. You tear what you love apart...
