Somewhere, out there, outside your head, beyond your body, there may be
noise.
There may be noise and
movement,
light and
heat. And
people.
There may be people who
love you, people who
hate you, people who just don’t care.
It doesn’t matter.
You are sitting
alone in the quiet place.
The place where no
pain can
touch you, where no
wound can
smart.
Safe.
The place where
joy is as
irrelevant as
misery.
Secure.
Not
hot, nor
cold.
Not
dark, nor
light.
Not
new, nor
old.
Not
black, nor
white.
It’s only the quiet place.
You could stay here,
forever, and never hurt again.
You could
die here.
If you choose.