Dead Silence

What is it about silence that drives one into deep and utter insanity? Why is it that we find it so easy to discover the answers in a quiet room, and yet the second we are engulfed in it, we find that we can scarce breathe, let alone think sane thoughts. I mean, the second I'm alone, my mind becomes a cemetary of the dead me- the one I'd so slowly become better than. She comes back, demanding angrily that I submit to her ludicrous demands, possessing me to pop pills, talk back, get in trouble, become loud, and overall, lose control. I find myself too weak to fight her. I find it so easy to allow her to take over- so quickly I submit as the blaring silence plunges me into the depths of madness. I hate it. I despise it. But most of all, I despise the girl I am slowly becoming as the silence grows louder and I find that indeed, no one is there.