Irreversible

When my sister left I was sat in a silence, a silence in that I wondered, what is silence?

Was it really truly quiet when no one was around, when no noises were being made? For is sound not the vital contract between the vibrations in the air to your ears whilst the connection to your brain processes those vibrations and gives you a response.

Or, was silence but the missing of someone you loved dearly? Where, in their absence, nothing but the distracting beep of an almost dead girls heart monitor was all you had to distract yourself.

And then I could not help but laugh at my own meanderings and yearn to hear something louder and more distracting than my own heart monitor, because as so many adults try to convince kids my age, we know not what we know, and know more than what we are.

I let a deep gust of wind drift through my body and wished to shuffle to the left, then to the right, but my impeccably horrible situation would not let me. I hear Dr. Bells in the hallway talking to a nurse and pondered upon what they were truly saying.

Was it but my imagination that conjured up what I heard and made it what I thought it was, and that truly I was nothing but thoughts and every part of my being was made up. From my sisters visit, to my numb body?

And then, yet again, I laugh in my head.

I am going in circles and need a distraction.
Badly.

Because in the long time I know that I will be laying here for, I don’t want to go mad.

I thought of my mother, how soft her hair had been when I touched it.

And I thought about my father, how understanding he had been, and how mental he got on the rare occasions he was mad.

I also thought of my visitor, my sister, my Constant. I would, could, and did trust her with everything. Only she understood that my thoughts were not accepted in society, only she knew that I could possibly more intelligent than out wise old grandfather, who had died a year before now.

She knew my thoughts, and sometimes I think she read them. Literally.