It was a horrifying sound. It was terrifying and frightening. It left me uneasy and confused. Dizziness overcame me, and I found myself asking weird questions. I found myself avoiding a door. The door wasn’t anything special. A door made out of wood. A doorknob shone like an orb on the door.
The door was just a door. But in the space between the door and the floor, light seeped out like a toxic gas, waiting to strangle everyone within reach.
I found myself trying not to walk past that door. The voice ricocheted out of it like bullets shot out of guns and bazookas. It was frightening. The voice seized my heart in a cold grip, making my back go rigid with fear.
The voice in itself was pitiful, though not less alarming. I was confused, mortified. I was asking myself what to do. I was a grown-up, but faced with that door I was an infant again, seeking my mom’s assuring voice, the warmth of her embrace, the security of a known agenda, the rope that held me close to someone.
The confusion settled deep inside me.
How could this voice be here?
What could I do?
What did it mean?
Was I supposed to do anything?
Was I supposed to stop it?
Did I have the right to stop it?
I tried to ignore it.
I was trying not to acknowledge its presence.
Because I couldn’t handle it.
I wouldn’t know how to handle it.
So I ignored it.
I walked away from that door, avoiding whatever light and voice, that was coming out of it.
I didn’t think it was my fault.
Faced with this situation, I am sure you would have faced your feelings before you proceeded. And what I decided was good enough for me. I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready to acknowledge that voice. It was too powerful. It made me shiver down my spine. It was a voice, that shouldn’t be there. That shouldn’t be heard by me. I wasn’t in a position to do that.
That voice should be sacred. No one should ever listen to it. It should be kept hidden away from everyone.
It shouldn’t even exist.
It was a voice that made you wary.
It made you tip toe on your feet, trying with all your might to bypass.
It was the voice that made your knees wobble.
It was the voice that made you feel powerless.
It was the voice that made you feel vulnerable.
It was a forsaken voice.
It was the voice of the one most unwanted voice.
The voice of doom and helplessness.
It was the voice of a mom crying.