Note By Note

IV : Running, The Only Thing Makes Sense

Note by Note

Chapter IV — Running, The Only Thing That Makes Sense

[Dedicated Song: Chelsea Cutler & Jeremy Zucker — Emily]

[17 March 2018]
[London, Victoria College of the Arts]
[18:56]

There was no way that Kuyeya was here. That woman of all people was here, on the stage, I now even dreaded to look at. I stared at her, wide-eyed at this development to the point that my eyes began to feel sore. How was this even possible? This could not be just a coincidence. This could not just be the actions of our small world. It felt too well-timed to be anything but a premeditated course of action. I stared at the stage, awestruck by this recent development just as much as her sublime appearance. There was one odd difference from what I had seen a week ago, however, her freckles were now non-existent, as if they had never been a part of her being in the first place. As soon as I had snapped out of this entranced state of my, I was once again overwhelmed by the presence of so many people in one room, all making sounds that I could not hear, starting conversations that I could not be a part of. Enjoying the one thing that I love most.

This pressure that I felt had not invaded my mind on its own, no. It was accompanied by a feeling of frustration mixed in with jealousy, jealousy that had me wondering why everyone else still had their hearing while I did not. Jealousy that demanded if I suffered, everyone else was supposed to be bound to the same fate. There was no way I could be the only one struggling like this. What had I done that prompted me to deserve this? What heinous act had I committed to being cursed with such an illness? I had always done what I was told, I had always behaved and worked as hard as I could. Where was the flaw in all that? Where was the one little butterfly that had set off this tornado of chaos? I had not noticed that my turmoil was visible to the outside world when my mother placed her hand in my own, squeezing it in a more supportive manner. Still, that was not enough to calm the rage that had been brewing inside of me for days now, since that disastrous trip outside of my home.

Nonetheless, I watched the performance, an action that did little to nothing for me, given that I could not hear even a single word. That alone was enough to further anger me, and not even the free-spirited movements of Kuyeya on stage could calm me down. Nothing could. At least, that was what I had taught myself to believe. For a moment, a split second, perhaps a small lapse in time, I heard something. It was nothing more than a single word, a word that I had vaguely heard. "Love—" That was the word. It was the only thing I had heard, not the chattering of the surrounding audience, not the instrumental surrounding the song. All I had heard was that one word, and I was beyond confident that the source was the woman that stood above me. I lifted my head to gaze into her brown eyes, an act that she replicated for only a moment before proceeding with her performance. I was awestruck once again.

I kept my broken ears focused once again, hoping to pick up the slightest of sounds amongst this home for pandemonium. There was hope, a small glimmer of hope that promised me my ability to hear once again. I could not let go of such hope, not when I had lost so much already. The dead flame that was my desire for life was slowly rejuvenating itself, now in the form of small members while I awaited another miracle, hoping another sound was caught by my broken ears. Seconds went by, slowly transforming into a whole minute when I heard nothing. The small silver of hope had once again died as quickly as it had appeared. I could not stay here. I had to leave, immediately. Standing up to my feet, I was overcome by my best friend referred to as dizziness, but it could not stop me. My fear of a second embarrassment was what fueled my body to fight against the feeling of unconsciousness, regardless of what my mother was saying to call me back. I should not have come back here, I was not ready to return. I would never be ready to return.