Sometimes we become so used to the silence, I guess. So used to it that we forget it's even there.
And when that silence goes away, drowned out by the joyful cheers of camp, we realize that we depend on the silence. Our minds cannot bear anything else.
(Silence is our calm; our sanity. Silence is our semi-precious stone.)
But the the cheers disappear, and the silence returns to haunt us. There is a void that is made clear. We realize that what we leaned on no longer exists. This is not silence. This is emptiness; and we were merely floating.
In this realization you turn to the cheering you once loathed. Because even when it brings us no joy, you think it is better than the emptiness.
I am floating but you are sinking.
Take from this what you will; the metaphor is meant to be ambiguous.