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ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ

» now playing: (Voices in My Head)  «

   » (Will Connolly, 'Be More Chill' Ensemble)  «

           
1:09 ─〇───── 4:18

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ᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗ: "ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶜᶜᵘᵖʸ ᵐʸ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ"

ˢʰⁱᵖ: ʷᵒⁿᵍ ʸᵘᵏʰᵉⁱ ˣ ᶜʰᵒᵘ ᵗᶻᵘʸᵘ

ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ: ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ⁻ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᶠᵃˡˡˢ ⁱⁿˡᵒᵛᵉ

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     silence is an excruciating submission to an empty world, in a place where no one hears another, it feels rather sullen and despair becomes far more evident than any other worldly problem to ever occur. that is, if one wishes to submit to the actual thought would it really be all that lonely?

if you could ever hear through the ears of chou tzuyu, you'd wished silence covered your whole being too. would be people really wish of being born 'different'?

had you ever care to see one of those beloved, war glorifying films, that care nothing else than produce a box office hit—offering the producers million and millions of dollars. more specifically, those of superheroes and their respective obsession of strength gifted mutants. and when you think about it, placing a pedal stool upon those who offer a chromosome more or lack of thereof, and yet criticize them for not being 'normal'.

had people ever cared for granting peace and serenity to those troubled, no. they do nothing than to castigate those who do not fit the standard.

this is the problem with society, a population of misfits trying to fit in a standard they think makes the cut for perfection, normalcy, status.

thinking of all this, it makes her self crawl in a ball, leaving nothing but a vessel she wishes would cease to exist. still, with all that she has, she tries her best to fit in with the misfits.

her classroom buzzes in all cheery tones and self-centered comments about themselves. she hears everything they think, nothing short to even their paused breaths.

the voices start crawling up against her cold body and she sees the words that once were nothing turn to solid figures doing their very best to subdue her.

if everyone would just care to stop thinking for a moment, then, maybe she wouldn't have to face this nightmare every, single day. their thoughts and speculations floating around the enclosed room, it makes her feel delirious and trapped in the space of her seat, strapping her down—unable to move on her own will.

jagged gusts leave her quivering, pale lips as she moves her head for any exit possible. the voices become louder and closer as if circling her all around leaving her all the more caged.

the voices start laughing, some crying, the rest remain in hushed whispers judging her entire being in one sitting. and no matter what she does she's rooted in her wooden seat, unresponsive, and unable to do anything. she nibbles her lips a little too hard and feels lukewarm liquid cascade down her lips.

then it just stops, she no longer hears the voices and instead feels an actual voice calling to her. a foreign warmth envelops her once paralyzed hand and squeezes it with reassurance.