If I close my eyes and listen, I can hear the slow passing of the cars. There would be a few moments of silence before another car would greet me with its sound of passing, the sound’s vibration echoing until silence wraps its cloak around me, bringing yet another moment dedicated to the state of dejection. Those few moments of quiet insanity that listens to no reason, keeping its true objective in stretching those few moments. My desire for sound becomes a mere mirage, no matter how many times I feel it, I’ll always know that it was never there. If it were, it was never there for me. I was just its collateral damage. The anomaly.
Every car that passes by has absolutely no clue I'm there, that every sound made would be the sole reason of my isolation in those few moments I endure. If they knew, would they choose another route? Knowing that the loneliness of an individual isolated from his dreams of companionship endures moments of silence that is the end product of every car that passes by. Or is this feeling of solitary not the bullying of others but the confinement that keeps me secure? If security meant protection for this delicate organ that keeps me alive then should I not embrace this current reality? If security was for protection and in turn to be comforted then why do I feel even more scared with who I am? Regardless of my current thoughts, I lay in wait for the opportune moment.
My phone vibrated, indicating that my method of transport had arrived. I was ready to leave. Quietly, I took everything I needed and went downstairs. With each passing floor, I could hear the steady breathing of the members of my family. The staircase was pretty old so the slow creaking sound from the stairs were inevitable. It didn't help to have mum and dad's room right next to the door where even the sound of the door opening could easily wake my mum up. I had to be careful, as even a glimpse of what I'm leaving behind could keep a hold of me forever.
I could still hear those voices in my head reminding me of the pain I had caused to this family. I could still remember how I alone caused my father, strong and stern, to overflow with tears. I could still see the disappointed looks on my brothers indirectly telling me to leave. That I had done enough. I couldn't take it any more, I want to be who I want to be but I never wanted to hurt the ones I love in the process! Was it a crime to love someone? Was it wrong to want to be with someone for the rest of your life? Just because my family did not approve of her and my ambition to be a writer I should just let it all go and be caged in a life where everyday is the same as yesterday?! If my father said stop and I didn't, it would always be the same,'Get out of my house' speech. Bloody hell I'm 20 years old and I can't even go out with my friends without a dozen approvals from everyone in this family. All these reasons were not really why I wanted to go, I wanted to go because my way of life would only cause pain as my mother would disapprove every thing I do. I don't want to see any more tears.
It's hard, isn't it? Moving on from everything you'll have to leave behind. From those unforgettable moments that strengthened the bonds with those you love to that moment you wish never ends. It truly is difficult. While I stepped outside, all those moments flashed before me. Tears ran down my icy cheeks finally feeling the cold devour my body whole. That chill made it so much harder taking that first step towards that absolute nothingness. I wasn't scared for what I'll have to face but just sad about what I'm leaving behind. It was the pain this would cause my mother that made it so much more difficult to walk on. Yet I carried on.
"Son, where are you going?"
I turned around. She stood there, with all her love and beauty. I guess if this is what I wanted, I would have to make it clear.