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“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.”

Silence.

At times I think silence can be the most torturous thing. We can make words what we want them; twist them to our liking, but we cannot do this with silence. Silence can mean anything, but it can also mean nothing. Hearing nothing more than the echo of your own voice when you're anticipating a response might very well be one of the more frustrating conclusions of the human experience.  Perhaps from God we take silence as an invitation to take the reigns and attempt to seek liberation by our own means. However, when received from a person, we only become more curious. We seek more, we are offended - we pry until we know what they're thinking and why they won't share that with us. And if nothing else, we are at least more careful as to how we go about acting around them post-silence. How come with God when we hear nothing we don't assume that he'll answer our cries in his timing. How come we act as children with parents on vacation and step into the drivers seat?