You wake, and the white light filtering into the room catches you off guard. Did you really sleep through the entire night? The silence in your room is deafening. You hate silence, practically more vividly and passionately than anything else, but...This silence isn't merely quiet, the silence is angry, like it wants revenge on you. The silence is closing in, squeezing you and contouring you to its will, being relentlessly gentle. You resist to be as sweet. No birds invade the disturbing silence, no wind, or rain, or not even the gentle shifting of the earth as you revolve around the sun. Why does this silence have to be so intimidating? You'd listen to music or something of the type, but your headphones rest on the ground. Maybe...Maybe you can reach them. There's only one way to find out. You lean down off of the bed, easing one hand shaking with pins and needles to the ground, your other vibrating and numb hand reaching out. You hook the joint of the two speakers on your pointer finger and reel it up. There you go. Finally. The silence was killing you. Clumsy as you are, looks like you've managed it, you think, until you feel that you're slowly sliding to the right. Fuck. You crash onto the ground, on your back, a fall that leaves you heaving for air. Now the light is right in your face, and you blink rapidly in protest.
Well fucking good morning to you, too, world.
