A Blanket Of Whispers

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Everyone tries to find something to ease their mind. In my search for my own security blanket I discovered this: This world is filled with voices. That’s an obvious fact that has become a source of comfort to me.


I’m not sure when I started to enjoy the sound of people talking. Perhaps it was my early years living in a large city. I’m sure that at that age I probably didn’t realize what was happening to my forming mind, but there’s a chance that the sound of my neighbors and the constant murmur that cities have left a mark on me.
Or maybe it was after I moved away from the city and had my first real taste of silence. Those days I would struggle to find a radio station even if it was music I didn’t care for, just so I could believe that there was someone out there still awake.
Whatever the reason, I can’t remember the last night I spent where there wasn’t some sort of noise tucking me in via my ears. In the last few years I’ve found those cherished voices in the form of podcasts. Which makes me feel a little guilty. I know these people put work into these shows and for me to use them as a sleep aid feels unfair.
Even when I’m not trying to sleep I still seek out the presence of voices. Sometimes I worry that I’m too close to that line between listener and voyeur. But that hasn’t stopped me from letting my mind ease and drift as I focus on the sound coming from stranger’s mouths.
I can’t deny that the search of mine has led to some nuggets that have always stuck with me. Some of it has been wise, some of it just funny. But a beggar can’t be a chooser. I just hope that perhaps, just maybe, there’s someone else out there like me. And they have overheard something I’ve said and remembered.

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