The silence is me. I sit back on a empty wall with dirt smudges, and cracks all over it. Most would look at it and say it looked about ready to all crumble to the ground, and yet it still stands. That wall has stood there for the 26 years I’ve been alive and I’m sure it’s been there longer than that. This wall holds pain, and shame, and brokenness. It’s a lot like me and that’s probably why I catc...