White Noise and Weeds


I have felt this way before.

Here it comes, strolling back into my life with no regard for my happiness. My goals. My accomplishments.
No, it whispers. It’s time. Now you will change.
You will feel like darkness. You will feel alone.
Like static.
Like white noise.

But I’m content! I reply. Happy. Now is not a good time. There is no reason for you to be here. Life is good.
It’s no use arguing. It always gets its way.

Don’t worry. It says with a smirk. Just put on a happy face and pretend nothing is wrong.
Don’t burden others with my visit.
If they know, you have failed.
It is your job to smile. To Laugh. It’s who you are.
You must give the people what they want.

It draws the shades and sits down.
Makes itself comfortable.
Pushes into my personal space.
Uses up my air.
Pleased with itself that it can change my world so quickly and thoroughly.
Pats itself on the back for being able to take me by surprise. Again.

It knows me well. Knows which buttons to push to be the most effective. Knows where my wall is shoddily built and throws stones just there.
 It does not play fair.
It makes the rules as it goes then changes them when I become familiar, or try to use them to my advantage.

We have a history together. We met in college. It hangs around. Never strays too far. Sometimes it’s within sight, but on the outskirts of my life, seemingly harmless.

 Like a weed.

 From a distance I sometimes mistake it for a flower but stepping closer reveals the truth.

Sometimes it hides in the shadows, pretending it’s not there, but thriving, even without sunshine. Fooling me. Letting me think it has withered and died - before making its confident and destructive return.
I am white noise.

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