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Feb 2014
I wish they could hear me sometimes.
I wish they could hear me crying in my bedroom over an idiotic boy.
I wish they could hear me throwing things left and right as I create a storm of my clothes over the latest thing that is enraging me to no extent.
I just wish they could hear me as I repetitively scream,
"YOU'RE SO STUPID" to myself over and over again until it is embedded into my brain and I feel it in my body.
But they can't. And they never will.

Deaf. That's what my parentsΒ Β are.
Deaf as they talk to each other with their visual language,
Creating a three-dimensional image that communicates all their ideas through art.
Deaf as they imagine what the music I love so much sounds like,
But all they can ever do is wonder.
Deaf as they can see me, but never fully grasp what my voice sounds like as I screech and howl for their help.
My screeches and howls are like tiny whispers in their ears.

My mom once asked me, "What is it like to hear? I wish I could."
But mom, I am here to tell you that your ears are blessed.
You cannot hear the monstrosities that exist in the world:
The sound of loud eating, the sound of two cars crashing into each other as both drivers finally heed what's happening, but lastly, the sound of your own daughter weeping in her room with solitude as she mopes hopelessly.
Mom, you're so lucky to have never heard that.
Tamanna
Written by
Tamanna
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   Traveler and Alyssa
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