Silance is my language
Silence
Silence.
The lack of speaking an, or not saying anything at all. That is what people think silence is but to me it’s more than that. It is what gets me out of the awkward situations that I used to get into. Any other pain I used to cause on myself or the others around me. It’s like a addiction for me I know how to talk it’s just hard to go back to. All I want to do is not talk and enjoy life in a bubble not words or sound coming from my mouth.
Along with me not talking some people think I’m deaf when really I just refuse to respond to the world.
Some people say it’s funny to see people’s reactions when you ignore them but after awhile it gets lonely. You wonder why you did it in the first place. What if you’ve come to the point where you’ve stopped caring? Does it make you heartless, or a lunatic, or dysfunctional? The people that I once knew think that about me. At first it hurt but than I just told my self to fuck it and move on I did it for them. If they don’t understand let `em.
I walk down the school hallways in the middle of December on a snowy day in Massachusetts. It gets real cold down here. Especially in the schools since we barely have enough money to pay for the electric bills. There’s a lot of things I could blame for the state that where in but I shrug it off I’m a freshman in high school. What can I do? When kids get noticed it’s because adults think it’s cute and gives hope. Really it’s their way of lying to everyone by using someone who actually thinks they can help when really they live in an illusion.
At my locker with the world just ignoring my existence and paying attention to their own lives. I think that’s a good thing. It makes a lie out of movies that say all the outcasts are made fun of. After a while barely anyone picks on you sometimes you get a rumor on you but everyone does in school at least once in their life. Good o’l rumors sending teens in tears and blasting their music or feeling like they want to tare up something. I may be ignored for my silent treatment but I just don’t want to go back on mistake road again.
My yellow blond hair begins to cover my face again I put it behind my ears and let the two died neon green streaks in my hair lay freely where ever it may want to go. That’s my favorite part of my body it makes me feel like I’m showing the world who I am from the inside. When I open my locker up the door goes to my right and I check how I look in my mirror. I start to look at my eyes they are like a grayish color if you can believe it. Some kids have “different” eyes from what some of the world calls it or a different kind of body part or something makes us our own special little piece of art. If I’m a piece of art I must be the kind sold in the streets for 100 bucks. Being put in the family dining room to be only marveled at for a split second. Still liked and still considered art even if I have some unneeded parts are on the board I was painted on.
I may be an outcast but Hollywood and books tend to have the outcasts to hate them selves. Me? I’m not well liked by everyone but I still like myself I know a few other people do. I accept that. None the less I’m still an outcast or a weirdo. What ever the less people I can hurt the better is what I think. While I check my reflection in the mirror a bit more I hear something speaking to me. One of the people that actually still like me. His name is Kat. An he is a survivor of my silent ways that has affected everyone I know.
“Hey paleface what are you doing when you get home?” Paleface the birth name of when he first laid his eyes on me he said I was. Back when I used to talk I’d tell him not to call me that and call me by my real name. Dream. I don’t even have any dreams for the future I like being a teenager and enjoying my life as one.
Yet I get stuck with that name. Really shows that words will have meanings but when it comes to when your parents name you. They curse you to not be anything like of your name.
I grab my backpack out of my locker and close my looker door as I just looked at him with out a reply of course. After he try’s to get me to speak to him he gives me a list of options that I might do since he knows me as well as he does. He’ll hold out his hands to
1.) While working on my homework watch Pretty in Pink.
2.) Eat cookie dough while watching Pretty in Pink.
3.) Do my homework than take a nap.
I show a two sign with my fingers it’s one of the only ways I’ll communicate with him. Sometimes with the expression on my face I’ll playfully peg him off. Or when I’m pissed off at him I’ll peg him off with a death glare to show him to back off. I know a bit of sign langue so I sometimes try teaching him that so when I desperately need to talk to him he’ll understand what I’m saying. I don’t know how to do sign langue that well so I don’t do it that often. Plus it’s a way of speaking so I really don’t like doing it that much.
As we walked down the hallway together he was playing with his hair it was a dark black split in two and looked completely cute to me. A long with his beautiful hazel eyes that I could get lost in but just because his body is beautiful doesn’t mean I like him. He’s my friend, my version of Ducky from Pretty in Pink. I wish he doesn’t end up liking me like Ducky likes Andy in the movie. I’d drop dead if I ever had to hurt him like Andy did to Ducky.
The lack of speaking an, or not saying anything at all. That is what people think silence is but to me it’s more than that. It is what gets me out of the awkward situations that I used to get into. Any other pain I used to cause on myself or the others around me. It’s like a addiction for me I know how to talk it’s just hard to go back to. All I want to do is not talk and enjoy life in a bubble not words or sound coming from my mouth.
Along with me not talking some people think I’m deaf when really I just refuse to respond to the world.
Some people say it’s funny to see people’s reactions when you ignore them but after awhile it gets lonely. You wonder why you did it in the first place. What if you’ve come to the point where you’ve stopped caring? Does it make you heartless, or a lunatic, or dysfunctional? The people that I once knew think that about me. At first it hurt but than I just told my self to fuck it and move on I did it for them. If they don’t understand let `em.
I walk down the school hallways in the middle of December on a snowy day in Massachusetts. It gets real cold down here. Especially in the schools since we barely have enough money to pay for the electric bills. There’s a lot of things I could blame for the state that where in but I shrug it off I’m a freshman in high school. What can I do? When kids get noticed it’s because adults think it’s cute and gives hope. Really it’s their way of lying to everyone by using someone who actually thinks they can help when really they live in an illusion.
At my locker with the world just ignoring my existence and paying attention to their own lives. I think that’s a good thing. It makes a lie out of movies that say all the outcasts are made fun of. After a while barely anyone picks on you sometimes you get a rumor on you but everyone does in school at least once in their life. Good o’l rumors sending teens in tears and blasting their music or feeling like they want to tare up something. I may be ignored for my silent treatment but I just don’t want to go back on mistake road again.
My yellow blond hair begins to cover my face again I put it behind my ears and let the two died neon green streaks in my hair lay freely where ever it may want to go. That’s my favorite part of my body it makes me feel like I’m showing the world who I am from the inside. When I open my locker up the door goes to my right and I check how I look in my mirror. I start to look at my eyes they are like a grayish color if you can believe it. Some kids have “different” eyes from what some of the world calls it or a different kind of body part or something makes us our own special little piece of art. If I’m a piece of art I must be the kind sold in the streets for 100 bucks. Being put in the family dining room to be only marveled at for a split second. Still liked and still considered art even if I have some unneeded parts are on the board I was painted on.
I may be an outcast but Hollywood and books tend to have the outcasts to hate them selves. Me? I’m not well liked by everyone but I still like myself I know a few other people do. I accept that. None the less I’m still an outcast or a weirdo. What ever the less people I can hurt the better is what I think. While I check my reflection in the mirror a bit more I hear something speaking to me. One of the people that actually still like me. His name is Kat. An he is a survivor of my silent ways that has affected everyone I know.
“Hey paleface what are you doing when you get home?” Paleface the birth name of when he first laid his eyes on me he said I was. Back when I used to talk I’d tell him not to call me that and call me by my real name. Dream. I don’t even have any dreams for the future I like being a teenager and enjoying my life as one.
Yet I get stuck with that name. Really shows that words will have meanings but when it comes to when your parents name you. They curse you to not be anything like of your name.
I grab my backpack out of my locker and close my looker door as I just looked at him with out a reply of course. After he try’s to get me to speak to him he gives me a list of options that I might do since he knows me as well as he does. He’ll hold out his hands to
1.) While working on my homework watch Pretty in Pink.
2.) Eat cookie dough while watching Pretty in Pink.
3.) Do my homework than take a nap.
I show a two sign with my fingers it’s one of the only ways I’ll communicate with him. Sometimes with the expression on my face I’ll playfully peg him off. Or when I’m pissed off at him I’ll peg him off with a death glare to show him to back off. I know a bit of sign langue so I sometimes try teaching him that so when I desperately need to talk to him he’ll understand what I’m saying. I don’t know how to do sign langue that well so I don’t do it that often. Plus it’s a way of speaking so I really don’t like doing it that much.
As we walked down the hallway together he was playing with his hair it was a dark black split in two and looked completely cute to me. A long with his beautiful hazel eyes that I could get lost in but just because his body is beautiful doesn’t mean I like him. He’s my friend, my version of Ducky from Pretty in Pink. I wish he doesn’t end up liking me like Ducky likes Andy in the movie. I’d drop dead if I ever had to hurt him like Andy did to Ducky.
♠ ♠ ♠
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