You feel alone, bereft, almost numb. No one hears. No one cares to understand. It’s all their truth, and no one wants to hear yours.
Talk so full of deceit you fall back into silent confusion.

You stop talking. You stop trying. It’s too draining.

You listen and you listen, and your mind becomes so busy, so full, you have to let your thoughts out.
So you whisper.
You whisper into the void.
You whisper into the darkness — over and over — sharing your thoughts, your dreams, your doubts.
Imagining a voice that might call softly back.

You feel a friend in the calm of the nothingness, a warmth in its expanse.
But then the energy shifts and you lean in.
Because here’s the thing:
If you whisper into the abyss long enough, it no longer feels empty.
It calls back to you — not void, but alive, and comforted by your voice.