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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short glimpse into my memory and madness.

Submitted: June 22, 2008

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Submitted: June 22, 2008



Quiet is the new loud.

Just thinking about a band trip. Remembered something that made me feel a little like crying.

On the last day we all split up into little groups. My group, including my mom, went sightseeing, shopping (with little success), and swimming. After getting out of the water, we goofed off, got sno-cones. Mr. Martinson found us and joined in. Of course there was talking and laughing, but we were already tired. Things got really quiet. I usually hate quiet. As soon as I had the chance I had filled my mornings with as much noise as possible and by far the best kind. For the first time in ages though, I enjoyed the silence. We were whispering. No one knew why but we didnt stop. We looked across our table, and Mr. Martinson had fallen asleep right in his chair. Couldn't help but laugh a little. We felt sympathetic obviously. He wasn't supposed to be tired because of his vacation. In any case, our noise woke him up. He would startle a bit, we'd laugh a bit harder at the look on his face, he'd simply smile a little, then he'd go back to sleep. We did this over and over again. He never got angry with us, which greatly surprised me, and the hush remained until we left.

Back in the real world. Things were quiet. So was the dinner table, unless we wanted things a bit tenser. His jibes stung, but I pretended they were funny. I laugh with the rest of them. He doesn't even notice the air is tenser until I pick the fight. I should know better. I have to behave myself. A family for hire is easily fired. He's done it once already. Its better to just laugh. Everythings hilarious.

I leave the stiff silence, go to bed, and dream ,how else, quietly. School always starts in the morning. Weekends dont exist. I horde as much music as possible to last through those days.

Then came summer. 4 am, falling asleep in my chair, I startle awake and realize I'm still here. Still laughing. Its our joke now. I fall asleep at the table, I startl awake, I laugh, he smirks, and we're a happy family.

I've filled my head with sound. When I fall asleep, a little of it fades. So I refuse to sleep. I startle awake and laugh because he thinks I'm losing it when I'm actually holding it tighter. The jokes on him now. He doesn't even know its hurting him.

I wake up in my chair full of books because we've put on a show all night, and the midnight sun wants an encore. My head is so loud, but everything is just hush. The good kind sometimes. When I think of that table by the beach. A memory I love and hate more than any of them. I hate it because, lets face it, you cant miss what you've never had. I love it because I look at the way some people live their lives and I both pity and envy them. Living like we're "supposed" to. Quietly.

I dont laugh because I'm supposed to anymore.

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