For my thirteenth birthday, I’d received an iPod. I remember having to wait all day for my parent’s present, secretly knowing what it was, but trying desperately to trick myself into thinking it was something else. Trying to prevent the disappointment that would come if it wasn’t what I’d been waiting for. But, at the end of the day, when my family of seven were all gathered at the dinner table, my dad finally brought out a white box with the apple logo on it. I remember opening it carefully, almost cautiously, that thought of potential disappointment still lingering in my mind like someone’s scent after they walk past you in the mall or on the street. Finally I pulled out the iPod from its perfectly white box, running my finger on the small circular button. Sliding my thumb over the clean new screen. I looked down at opened box and found a charger and a pair of white ear buds.
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Music slowly became something that was so important to me, that I almost didn’t notice it anymore. It was just there. My ear buds would constantly be in my ears, and my iPod in it’s rightful place in my pocket. I’d download new music every week, always making sure I had something to listen to that suited my mood. I still remember the song I was listening to when I’d lost music completely. It was ‘Let her Go’ by Passenger. Only later would I understand the irony.
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I was walking along a path near the lake with my earbuds in and my iPod in my hand. Everything was covered in a fresh layer of snow, and the lake had completely frozen over. I guess I must have trailed of of the path and onto the lake because the next thing I knew, I was hearing a cracking sound before suddenly tumbling into the ice cold water beneath. That was the day I had lost my hearing. That was the day when the most important thing in my life was ripped away. Cut off like an unfinished song.
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Sometimes I think back to a time when I would put my ear buds into my ears, and my iPod in my pocket and everything would somehow feel better. But now, there was no escape. There was no escape from the overwhelming silence that clouded over my life like an unwanted rain storm. I still wear my earbuds, pretending that I can still hear the sweet melodies playing from their tiny speakers. But that time is gone now, and all I have are memories. Memories of a time when silence was an escape, instead of a prison.
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