Alone In A Room

When did quiet get so loud?

When did an empty hour

start feeling like a held breath,

like a room before bad news?

You'll queue for any noise at all,

company of any kind,

sooner than sit sixty minutes

with the one you can't log out of.

It's a simple test. It's free.

It's the hardest thing I'll ask —

Can you sit alone in a room?

No noise, no crowd, no errand?

'Cause if you can't keep your own company,

somebody else will keep it —

and they'll charge.

Oh, they'll charge.

I failed it first myself, for years.

Filled every gap with anything.

Called it busy, called it social,

called it everything but running.

The room was never empty, though.

That's the joke of it.

The room was full of one appointment

I kept cancelling.

It's a simple test. It's free.

It's the hardest thing I'll ask —

Can you sit alone in a room

till the silence stops performing?

'Cause whoever keeps your company

sets the prices in your head —

and they'll charge.

They already charge.

Ten minutes. Tonight. That's all.

The walls won't move.

Whatever surfaces — let it.

It's been queuing longer than you know.

Can you sit alone in a room?

Then sit. Stay. Meet yourself.

Shake the hand. Hear the grievances.

It's not a punishment — it's the office

where everything honest gets signed.

Everything honest starts in that chair.

Sit down.