The trouble with silence

I'm learning how to be silent and it's proven to be extremely difficult. Almost unnatural given that most if not all people simply want (or even need) to be heard. We need to prove to others, if not ourselves, of our existence. And the simplest way to try to achieve that is by shouting things, constantly, unceasingly. Sometimes we shout things that need to be heard and other times completely unnecessary things, and if you're like me; young, lost and confused, it's probably not too hard to guess that shout more of the latter. But how do you distinguish between the two? It's difficult to learn silence and still maintain a certain level of sanity. Don't you have to be the highest level of enlightened to really be at ease with the fact that nobody really ever listens to what you say and that there really is no need to prove anything to anyone? There is a part in Norwegian Wood where the main character visited a mental rehabilitation centre out in the countryside and he was shocked to find how quiet everyone was at the cafeteria, and how contrasted it was to the usual campus cafeteria he's used to where everybody is always talking and singing and doing everything loudly. Then a character who had lived at the centre for years said something that I really liked about nobody there needing to convince or prove themselves to the people around them because everyone had accepted each other as they were. Anyway, silence is so hard to get used to. Even when I say nothing at all, I'm left with the echoes of my thoughts and those are the most frustrating noise I ever had to hear. I should learn how to meditate, and quickly.