Peace is not the absence of noise, but of inner alarm

The quiet morning described in this excerpt from the book *Ožiljci bez rana* is far from the usual calm that follows sleep. Instead, it captures a moment of profound internal tension, where silence does not bring peace but instead amplifies a sense of unease. The narrator wakes not to the familiar rhythm of daily life, but to a strange stillness that feels heavy, almost oppressive. This is not the kind of quiet one might expect after rest—it carries with it a weight that seems to anchor her to the bed, as though time itself has paused without explanation. There is no immediate clarity about what the day holds, nor is there a sense of urgency or purpose. It's a silence that demands attention, not offering comfort.

The narrative unfolds slowly, with each movement carefully observed and questioned. Light moves across the wall, and the narrator watches its path, searching for direction, yet finding none. Her body responds before her mind catches up—she rises from the bed, compelled more by habit than desire. The cold floor beneath her feet brings her back into the physical world, grounding her in a way that thought alone could not. She stands motionless for a few seconds, trying to recall how she once began days—without effort, without inner negotiation, without fear of silence, and without the burden of success. These memories feel distant now, as though they belong to someone else entirely.

In front of the wardrobe, she faces a new challenge. Clothes hang neatly, each item prepared and ready, yet none seem to fit. They are all clean, all in place, but their presence feels excessive, almost mocking. Each piece of clothing represents a version of herself, but none fully aligns with who she is today. As she touches them one by one, some soft, others stiff, she realizes that nothing offers a clear answer. The clothes are not lacking in meaning—they simply don’t know where she is anymore. In this moment, she chooses the first shirt that comes to hand, not because of any deep consideration, but because she must make a choice, even if it’s arbitrary.

This passage reflects a deeper emotional struggle, one that goes beyond the simple act of waking up. It speaks to the dissonance between expectation and reality, between past self and present identity. The narrator finds herself caught in a liminal space, neither fully awake nor fully asleep, neither certain of her role in the day ahead nor confident in her ability to navigate it. The silence around her is not empty—it is filled with the echoes of choices made and paths taken, all leading to this uncertain moment.

The text also hints at broader themes of transformation and survival. The title *Ožiljci bez rana*, which translates to “Scars Without Wounds,” suggests a journey marked by invisible pain and resilience. The author’s decision to share such intimate moments indicates a willingness to confront discomfort and vulnerability, revealing layers of emotion that are often hidden behind the surface of everyday life. This excerpt invites readers to consider the complexity of human experience, particularly the ways in which silence can be both a refuge and a reminder of unresolved tensions.

As the story continues, it becomes evident that these reflections are part of a larger narrative—one that explores the psychological aftermath of conflict, loss, and personal change. The narrator’s struggle is not unique; it resonates with anyone who has ever felt disconnected from themselves or their surroundings. Through this introspective account, the author challenges the reader to look beyond the noise of daily existence and listen to the quiet signals that shape our inner worlds.