Silenced In A Way No One Else Understands.

Silence is different to everyone. Most people think being silenced means not being able to speak but, sometimes it means choosing not to speak what's on your mind. That is my type of silence, and this is everything on my mind. *Speechless Competition*

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What is silence?

Silence, by definition, is the complete absence of sound.

There are different types of silence. There's the silence where you stand still and speak no words as respect for a deceased person. There's the silence that is simply not speaking of a certain topic. There's comfortable silence- where nothing is needed to be said. There's awkward silence- where no one knows what to say. Then, there's total silence, which, by definition, is the state of abstaining from speech. In this type of silence, you don't speak at all. From some sort of cause.

My kind of silence is different, though. My kind of silence is just not saying what I'm feeling. My kind of silence is rarely recognized. And I'm here to tell you about it.

 

 

 

I was born on a Military base in 1997. My daddy was a Marine. When I was born, my parents had been married and already had a child. My older brother, Jackson. He's a year, four months and twenty-one days older than me. I don't remember much about my biological mother, Sue. She left when I was around a year old and I only ever saw her once after that. My dad was 22 and a single parent. He was given the option, in 1999, of going to Japan for three years with me and my brother or going for one year without us. He managed to get out of the Marines because he wouldn't do either. My life would be so much different if he had made the choice to go to Japan. If he went for three years, he would have still been a Marine when 9/11 came about. If he had even gone for just a year, he wouldn't have left until his time was completely up. The way that I'm uncertain is a way that I'm silent.

My grandmother babysat Jack and I a lot when we were younger. My dad had to work to keep us in a house, as we had lived with my grandparents for a while before that. We lived in the oldest house in town! I think because she babysat us so often is the reason why I have such a close relationship with her to this day. My inability to understand my emotions is a way that I'm silenced.  

I don't know when exactly my dad met my mom (well, step-mom. But, she's been around for a long time so I call her mom) but, they got married when I was five, I think. When I was around that age, my brother pushed me into a heater, like a radiator and my head was cracked open. I had to get four staples. I still have the scar. It's a bald spot on the back of my head where no hair grows. I think it's kind of cool. Anyway, along with my mom came my sister. She's never really liked me. She doesn't even today. My unlikableness is a way that I'm silenced.

When I was in Kindergarten, my parents had a child. Her name was Hannah. She died after birth. We still have her ashes in our house. It was really upsetting. I still blame myself, sometimes. I don't think my parents think I remember, but I do. I left something on the stairs and my mom fell down. She yelled about how I could cause the baby to be hurt. I don't know what caused the baby to not make it. But, I still fear it may be that. I still fear I may have killed my baby sister. My fear is a way that I'm silenced.

When I was in second grade, my mom had another child. His name is Hayden. He's almost eight now and has Autism. He has the social form called Asperger's Disorder. Sometimes, I think that I may have it, because we are very similar in behavior but, I've always been able to hide my emotions better than he can. I've always been so closed, which may be why I'm typing this now. My other brother, who is seventeen, just got his license. He doesn't like me very much either and hates to take me anywhere. The rest of my family (excluding my dad but including my sister's boyfriend) were planning to go to the mall. Yesterday, I had asked Jack what time he was going to the mall with Alyssa- my sister. He said 7:15 and I asked if I could go. He said he only wanted to take Alyssa and Josh (Alyssa's boyfriend.)
Alyssa's boyfriend basically lives with us. My parent's like him much more than they like me. They treat me as though I don't belong. I don't know why. When I was littler, they used to be mean to me. Really mean. Jack would hold me down while Alyssa hit me. But, if I ever did anything back, I got into trouble. I think that's when I started to keep my thoughts inside. I would be crying so loud because of how much they hurt me and would get in trouble for crying so loud. Dang, I think now, how could I have let them get away with so much? My cowardice is a way that I'm silent.

The only person I can feel as though I am myself with in my household is my dad. I'm a daddy's girl. Which, may have to do with why the rest of my family resents me. I had a locket with my dad's picture on it when I was eight. It was a picture of him in his Marine outfit. I remember my mom throwing it across the room because she said I wore it like I was married to him. I mean, he's my daddy, I looked up to him. What was so wrong with wearing the necklace? As for Alyssa, her father was never there, just like my mom hadn't with me. But, my father has always been hers, too. He accepted her in a way I hadn't experienced. My unsubstantial family is a way that I'm silenced.

On to my social life. Well, I had a few best friends throughout school. But, thinking now, no one stands out to me that has always been there for me. Not like I had for everyone else. There was a boy, who was the closest friend I've ever had, in eighth grade. Well, he was in seventh and I was in eighth. Anyway, we met through a mutual friend. The boy was his best friend and my ex boyfriend. We met the first day of that year. He didn't like me at first but, soon realized that we were perfect best friends. We started texting and became very close. I told him everything, as he did with me, or so I thought. He was my first love, and well, my only love. As I still am in love with him today. He played me time after time but, I decided it was no big deal. He'd apologize, I'd forgive him. We fought like there was no tomorrow. Even though I loved him, I was never walking on eggshells about saying the wrong thing. What made us such good friends is that no matter how much stuff people may think, we'd much rather hear it than not. Ya know? He moved on to a new girl. I was happy, though. I cared about his happiness more than my own. Looking back, that's how I know it's love. I only cared for how he felt. This girl, though, had a hatred for the closeness of the friendship we shared. She was determined to keep us apart. Sadly, she succeeded. She told him lie after lie about me. Finally, he started to believe it. I don't blame him. I never have. I understand that he wanted to believe what she said. Part of me just wishes he would have believed me, his best friend, over her. We had a fight. Not a typical fight. Normally, we would scream and yell until we worked things out. Not sleeping if things weren't resolved. That night killed our friendship. We didn't talk for a week. By that time, it was just plain awkward to talk. It's like we had missed a week of each other's lives but couldn't find a thing to say to each other. That was the day my heart broke.
Now, about a year later, I haven't said three words to him. He's happy that way. So, I am too. I've tried telling myself he'll come around. It just feels like the right thing for him to do. But, he hasn't. Reality tells me he never will. But, for some reason, my heart keeps holding on to him.
I guess, besides him and a few other people, you could say everyone likes me. It's weird. I don't particularly hang out with anyone but, we can have a nice talk. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I keep to myself. Maybe.. I don't know, honestly. I don't see anything likeable. My loss of my best friend is a way that I'm silent.

When I was fourteen, people would tease me for my height and weight. I didn't realize that I am no where near fat. I basically sank into starvation. I now understand that it was the worst thing I could have done. I remember being at a friends house and her mother was concerned about my constant head aches and how I never accepted meals. She had to tell me about her friends daughter, who was going through similarities like me. Only then did I realize my body was eating itself and I had to get better. I'm now close to being at risk for over weight. But, I'm in the normal level. If the same thing came about, I can honestly say I have no idea if I would go back to the way I was. We no longer associate with the woman who saved my life. I don't think she even knows that she did. So, thank you to her. My starvation is a way that I'm silent.

I've always been extremely musical. Not in singing ability but, I play a lot of instruments. And I taught most of them to myself. Of course, that's not as fantastic as my brother's track skills or my sister's gymnast skills. My mom's been to one of my concerts and my dad- three. But, my dad never missed a track meet. They always had my sister at cheer on time. My dad has been to maybe four of my volley ball games. My mother, one.  My grandparents always came, though. That's why I often wish I lived there over here. They seem to care. My lack of attention is how I'm silent.

I started to cut myself when I was fourteen. After my starvation incident, my friends and siblings made me feel not wanted. Not needed. Not loved. I only did it a few times, regretting it in the morning. Night time can get you. I.. I felt like I deserved what I was doing to myself. I felt like everything that I was made fun of for was my fault. It was my fault my sister hated me. My fault no one thought I was pretty. My fault I couldn't get perfect grades. And, I felt like I had to punish myself. I've stopped, for now. It's happened a few times since I was fourteen. But, not many. I kind of enjoy pain, or at least, that's what I told myself while cutting my arm. Now, every time someone mentions the word 'depression' by wrist burns. As a reminder that I was depressed and cut myself. My cuts, are my screams of silence.

Things got better as I turned fifteen and sixteen. Well, for me, anyway. My brother had always been rebellious but, his tenth grade year, he was sent away. It was saddening. He was gone from July 27th to July 3rd. Almost a year. He got to visit occasionally. But, only occasionally. We found out that he has some disorders, which, I can't really remember. But, he's gotten better now. My secret disorders, like my brother's, are a way that I'm silent.

I was forced to switch to a Christian school at the beginning of this school year. Which, in turn, caused me to lose the very few friends I had at public school. Finally, I have convinced my parents to allow me back into public school and should be getting the call that I can start any time, now. Which, will hopefully allow me to make some friends. My dad likes the idea. My mom doesn't. Not having friends is a way that I'm silent.

I often hold back tears. Especially when I'm frustrated. I always cry when I get like that. In math, I'm a great student. Actually, I'm a great student all around, but especially in math. Anyway, if I can't figure out a problem, I start to cry. Not a full out tantrum, but a few tears slip. It's unusual for me to not understand math, so I get frustrated with it. I try to hold back those tears. Just like I hold back my feelings and emotions. This is a way that I'm silent.

These are all things that have made me silently angry, upset, happy and many other emotions. This is my story.

I've never told this to anyone before, which is why I would consider it silence. Maybe you don't. But, I do. Silence can affect us all, and maybe it's not always so recognizable.

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