The Mute

The wind, the trees, the leaves, the animals and the stars. I felt I was the only one able to understand them. The only one able to really feel the way they felt, because like them, I was unable to speak for myself. "As a child I mostly spoke inside my head. I had conversations with the clouds the dogs the dead. They thought me broken that my tongue was coat in lead, but I just couldn't make my words make sense to them. If you only listen with your ears, I can't get in." My thoughts racing through my mind, words I always wanted to say, but no one could understand me. No one would.

I was a burden to my family, my dad considered me a punishment for something he must have done. He was always looking at me with sadness in his eyes, but not for me. No, he felt pity himself for telling my mother not to abort me. I was unplanned, and unwanted. I knew that, and was okay with it, because their next child, he adored. I don't know that for sure, but I'm guessing their next child wasn't like me, so of course they loved them more than I. I never met my younger sibling. My mother would try to keep my dad happy, she smiled at me every now and then, but her smile was with dead cold eyes. They didn't smile at all. I knew she wished she had never given birth to me. They were ashamed of me, never wanting to take me to the family meetings. Relatives would whisper and say I'm dumb, or mentally challenged, they'd act like I couldn't understand what they were saying because I couldn't respond to their words. But I understood, all too well. They suggested doctors to my parents, but my father didn't want to take me. Whenever I was ill, my mother would simply take care of me herself, using her own home remedies to try and make me feel better and if it didn't work, she'd just keep it the way it was until I was better. She used the same routines, over and over. I know she was doing it to keep from being accused of neglect, but I knew if that wasn't a problem, she wouldn't have minded if I had died. No one ever said anything about my mother's methods. There wasn't even a question.

Though I knew all these things, I tried best to enjoy myself as I saw the world, full of secrets unknown to anyone, even myself. At night, I snuck out, and laid atop my roof. I spoke to the sky, and arranged the stars as I saw fit. Sometimes I made animals or faces, other times I would paint a whole mural in m y head. It varied each night.

I am tearing my parents apart, I feel as though they are losing feelings for each other, and not because of them, but me. They never say anything and although my mouth is cursed, my mind & eyes are not. I see it. I know I am the reason my father yelled at my mother because he felt like he was living with a ghost, and my mother cried, because she knew it to be true. She couldn't make my father happy as long as I was around, and it killed her. I know it is my fault they sleep in separate beds.

I don't want to hurt them, I want them happy, though I've never seen them smile.

And so, I left. I crawled out of my bed one night, and packed a pillowcase of everything I owned. I left through the front door of the house and said an apology in my head. 'I'm sorry you're not happy. I'm sorry I caused so much trouble. Please, smile.' I put one foot forward and left.

I hope my parents can have a better life, I don't want to trouble them anymore.

This is why I've never met the sibling my parents always wanted. This is why I'll never see them smile, or laugh. This is why I hope I find someone who doesn't cry because of me.

And hears me.

And speaks to me.

Maybe I will find them. And they'll want me.