The days, the nights, are all the same for me: quiet. When I look at the sky, I wonder what the vibrant sparkle of the stars sounds like. But more than that, I wonder what sound does to people, so that they are enchanted and dance just as its addictive waves are released. The magic tries to reach me every time it flows through the air, but all I hear is someone tapping my ear with its fingers, telling me, "Hey, I'm here, it's up to you if you want to listen to me or not." My mum told me that what seems to me as a vibration is actually called music. A complete different language of sound, which fails to speak for me because I was born with these sick things I call ears. They are good for nothing.
I close my eyes, breathe in the air and feel the beat of my heart, the only sound which is able to enchant me. I am sitting at the backyard of my mansion, with my dog by my side, the only company I have. My dog, Silky, is my only childhood friend and the only family I have. I am the only one who can caress her soft velvet black hair. If someone else tries to do the same, she will most probably bite him. She stays with me no matter what happens, unlike my so called family. My mum is always busy organising parties; my dad is always busy with his business; and my older brother is an all time drunk. He'll be lying on the street, sleeping with all his drunk-headed friends. My parents don't even care about him. I have an older sister too, she's the apple of my parents' eyes. She is perfect, she's beautiful, kind, funny, charming and all of those pointless words that describe a spoilt child. I have the same grey eyes as her, and the same brown hair and the same fair skin as her. But unlike her, I am beaten up by people every single day, and every single day, my sister ignores me and lives her own life as if my life doesn't matter at all. I am a defected piece which has been brought into this world by a perfect family. They have all the money to raise charity for a good cause, but without a heart to love their own family members. Like every guy in the town is my sister's tail which follows her, every person in the town is a camera on my head. They follow me to check that I don't do anything which could cause destruction to the society because I am an imbecile. I know I can't get out of this, so I always try to imagine how my life would've been if I was her: perfect.
There's a party going on in my mansion or, as everyone calls it, "The Armstrong's Mansion". Like always I have to wear this irritatingly shiny, skimpy and silvery dress, even though my mum knows I hate parties. People can't help but stare at me as if I'm from another planet, as if there are no other deaf people in the whole world. The night is so cold and I don't think my mother even cares if I get ill. All she wants is a reason to say that she gave birth to two beautiful daughters who can also bear the cold winds just to show off their recently waxed legs. Nobody can be so narcissist except for my mum.
I can feel the beats of the music coming from the mansion, which will never be called a home. I close my eyes and tip my head back to drain all my thoughts. With the cold winds blowing I try to absorb the sounds coming from inside the dreaded place. I lay back with the support of my palms and tighten my grip on the moist grass, remembering the day my useless ears actually heard a sound: loud and clear. But no one would believe me because that moment stayed only for a split second, then it was gone. I wasn't able to hear anything anyone was trying to say to check if some miracle really happened or if I was just playing a prank on them. I don't feel like thinking more about it because "The more I think, the more I lose myself". These were the exact words my Aunt signed me and I think these are the words I will have to stay with forever. This is who I am and this is where I live. There's no spell which can change the course of my life.