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.


The place where joy is as irrelevant as misery.


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.

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