I pressed on the pencil until the paper’s surface dented alongside my strokes, and the graphite dislodged itself into the crevices. I read. The turning of the pages and the lulling repetition of the letters induced a trance-like stillness in my brain. I listened. I focused on the teacher as her laryngeal vibrations conveyed wisdom about mathematics and proper punctuation usage. However, I did not speak. I used a series of gestures and grunts to communicate. I spoke with choppy sentences, and I generally felt as though I had nothing insightful to add. I had an aversion to talking.
Why are you so quiet? I hated leaving my books for recess. I was shuffled out onto the playground and forced to stay. I sometimes played catch with a brick wall, until the mud from the kickball started to splatter onto my arms. I normally just paced around the edge of the playground, flinging the woodchips into the air with my toes. I tried to keep my shoes clean. Lunch was even worse. I sat at the end of the table and occasionally chimed into the conversation. Once, I was completely alone at a table for twelve. I cried on the bus ride home.
Why are you so …show more content…
I comment on the lack of bitter frost in the autumn air. I mention Star Wars, and subsequently get into heated debates about Star Wars. I complain about idiots that do not use their blinkers. I talk about the past. I recall the times before smart phones. I reminisce about old TV shows. I miss Jon Stewart. I talk about the future. I disclose my wish to become a doctor. I reveal my alternate plan to become a filmmaker/bartender in Seattle if medical school does not work out. I warn about the death of the planet from climate change. I talk about philosophy, history, and science. I talk about movies, politics, and the economy. I talk. I talk. I