Covers - Followup 2

The meaningless semi-coordinated prancing around. The helmets with plasticky feathers. The shining waldhorns.

Inducing Silence

I've fled down here. I hear them talking about me. I try to shut out the sound. My mind cannot do it. It doesn't work. I thrust music into my ears. I just want to be left alone. I just want. Silence.

My mind is racing. Adrenaline pumping. Shaking mentally. Am so tired.

How do they do it? How can they not weary from the continuous contact? The inane chatter. The pleasant nothings. The filling space. The. Break. And. Stutter.

Why does it matter?

I pull myself inwards. Cue emotionally tinted retrospective. I'm staring out the window. The trees are black fingery shades against a broken sky. They wave at me.

I was five, the first time I remember experiencing true terror.

We lived in a large cold house in a small town. The garden was as old and unkempt as the house. Dominated by large trees surrounding the house, I recall that we had recently buried my pet rabbit under the old apple tree in the corner of the garden farthest away from the house. It was fall, I think, and dark, darker than here and now. I was sitting at our large wooden dinner table. Drawing, maybe. I was a silent, contemplative child. A branch whipped across the large window to my left. Again. I looked left. I could barely see the trees against the near pitch dark sky. Then it occurred to me that there were no trees within five yards of that window.

White noise.



Lights have been lit around me. Probably as well.

Am still trying to induce silence.