Crickets

The biggest problem about this planet isn't the faulty leadership, or the failing economy, or the false assumptions that people create so that they can fight each other. It's not the fatty food, or the lack of unique culture, or the desperation to be different or similar.

The biggest problem is all the noise.

Noise, like, talking noise. Like singing and playing and yelling and complaining and laughing noise. Like music noise. It's a problem.

People think that maybe, since everyone else is doing it and everyone has always done it, making noise is an OK thing to do, to relate to other people that are ruining the peace. People think that since everyone is disrupting space and air and liberated and untethered thoughts that it is alright to send shock waves of unwanted noise through that innocent media of air and nothing. If there are aliens, I'm surprised they haven't destroyed us yet, like they always do in the movies, for disturbing the cosmic peace.

Tradition is still around for a reason, right? Because it was right in the first place... right?

See, I saw the lie at a young age, and I knew that I was right and they were wrong.

And it took years of surgery and fights with family and friends and doctors and lawyers, even, to get it to work.

I am voluntarily deaf.

_____________________________________

Communication wasn't riddled with audibly biting sarcasm or hatred or anything anymore, after those surgeries. I couldn't hear anybody say that I was crazy or stupid or anything like that.

It comes down to this fact and this fact only:

It's easier to keep one's sanity when noise isn't rupturing the very, very delicate shell of a thought.

_______________________________________

Sometimes, though, I miss sounds. Not noise. Not music. Sounds.

Like crickets, when they decide that they need to do their share of the chattering, after a decent meal that's cold on the tongue after a ridiculously hot day. A hot day, but now it's cool because of the food, and cool because of the night, but warm because of the leftover humidity and the delight of good company. After driving home from said dinner, and said good company, and the crickets just do their chirping because on this side of the earth, it's quiet.

And the crickets saw that it was good, so they chirp to fill the space.