Breaking the Silence
I am truly terrified of silence. I am an eighteen year old, hard of hearing person. I was two years old when a fever struck me and rose to a temperature that should have killed me. I survived, but with almost no hearing.
The thought of going completely deaf terrorizes me. A new world with no sound is my greatest and worst fear. To me, silence is the loudest, most deafening sound of all.
The idea of silence may be pleasurable for others, but for me it is a nightmare come true. Over the past sixteen years, I have learned to love and appreciate sound. To be without sound, without noise, is to be a person without a beautiful melody of life.
I listen to music just as you do. I enjoy the soft pattering of rain falling softly against my window. I love to hear the whispers of the one I love, the broken segments of sentences, and the short, out-of-breath answers. If I was deaf, I wouldn’t be able to hear the masterpiece of music, the phenomenon of nature, or the voice of love.
I fear not being able to hear the beautiful melody of life. Being able to hear what I’m able to hear makes me appreciate the hearing I have. As others may take it for granted, I am thankful for what I have. Should my world be covered with a soundless environment, I’ll cherish each sound I remember.
I believe I should make good use of the sounds that passes through each day. I believe that I should experience as much sound as I possibly can before the silence cloaks the sounds with a melancholy, unwanted feeling of loneliness. I believe that each time I hear a bird sing, a baby babble its first word, or a poem being read aloud, I shouldn’t just hear it, but listen to it and truly take in the beauty of sound.
I won’t let the silence subdue me into fear. I will always have the memory of the sounds I have experienced, learned, and come to love. With that, I can easily make the silence disappear just as quickly as it comes.
