Listen

Grade 10 winner
Kathy Wang
Teacher: Mrs. Posthumus, Semiahmoo Secondary

People have forgotten what its like to be silent. The tranquility of every moment is smothered by voices that compete to rise higher than any wave. The world revolves around those who paint their lives in the loudest red. Soon, all the other seemingly important details smudge and fade into the unknown. My ears are bleeding. My insides are winding tighter and tighter. I feel completely and utterly helpless as I trash through the nightmare that has become my reality. Sometimes, even as I sit on the hard bench of a city Skytrain, I just want the sobs that rise up in my chest to explode in the form of a tsunami. That way, everything would be hushed and quiet, like snow. Yet the life of a twenty-first century teenage is more a rumbling thunderstorm than anything else.

In my head, I am running down an impossible labyrinth. I feel compelled to race down the alleys that end up giving me dead ends. I am tearing through the weeds of nonsensical homework in my mind, shredding them so that I will fret no more about my countless expectations. I am trudging through the muddy pages of the scrapbook of my social life. I realize only too late that its quicksand and I am sinking into the depth of loneliness, even the rejections of Facebook haunt me. Where do I escape to now? All along the way of search to the center of this suffocating maze, I am constantly reminded of these conflicts. They come to me in screeches and taunts and no mater how hard I shield my hearing, the clamors continuously oppose me. I think I understand what its like to be completely insane.

All of a sudden, the Skytrain jolts to a stop and my stormy ocean of feelings shatter for once. I peek outside the charring windows and I have no idea where I have landed. Like a blind bird, I fell out of the uncontrollable closing doors. As I walk in the middle of confusion, I panic. What if reality is reflecting the lost course in my imagination? What if this is the final dead end?

I wander, trying to recollect myself. There is a subtle quietness in this unknown place and I am grateful for the peacefulness that breezes through my now hollow head. It’s something I haven’t experienced in so many days. There are no echoes of overachieving parents or pointless high school conversations. The world is completely speechless as I sit down and observe an abandoned garden. Despite all deprivation, it still grows wildly and beautifully. I scan my eyes over the dusty label: “Compost Garden”. Suddenly, I wonder if it’s possible to “compost” all my tangled thoughts and recycle them to feed my future. Out of my obscure life, I begin to see a dazzling light. I untie all the knots in my difficulties and let loose all my insecurities. Only then can I erase the background chatter and here the serene music of the world.