Flummox
flummox, v.
Etymology: probably of English dialectal origin; compare flummocks to maul, mangle ( Heref. Gloss. 1839), flummock slovenly person, also hurry, bewilderment, flummock to make untidy, disorder, to confuse, bewilder (see various E.D.S. glossaries, Heref., Glouc., S. Cheshire, Sheffield).
And per myself:
All the things are mixed up
How do I say the things?
What are even the things?
This is mixed up and what I know is forwards and upside whichways.
The Sound
Silence is the most deafening sound on planet. When the world fails to produce distractions, your mind implodes. Thoughts, voices, ideas pound the inside of your skull. Your brain floods with truth, uninterrupted from the exterior forces that usually dictate your life. You come face to face with your demons, your flaws, your issues, your dreams. No filter seperated you, from your everything. You learn who you really are in the brief moments when the universe emits no sound. The universe gives you an oppurtunity to explore your deepest thoughts, your strongest emotions. It gives you a chance to comprehend the reasons why you are who you are.
Silence can be a savour. It can be the spark guiding you through the pitch path of life. It can be the inhale that pushes your next exhale out.
But,
Sometimes silence is lethal. Sometimes being alone surrounded by nothing but your subconcious is horrifying. Because, You cannot cope with the truth behind your actions. You cannot deal with the person you have become. You beg for soundwaves to penetrate your ears. To enter your brain to cover the honesty. You pray for a wall to be built inside your head so you can be seperated from the true you. Silence is so much more than nothingness. It is so much more than a volume. Silence is gateway to discovering everything.
