Peace. In my search for peace I found myself trying to avoid the earsplitting noises of my everyday life. I only wished to work in peace without solemn a word. However, my room that once served as sanctuary became a prison.
I stormed out of my room, angry, agitated, and absolutely infuriated with all the noises that polluted my ears. I found myself outside and I was immediately refreshed by a new sound. The sound of silence. The sweet, soothing sound of an angel speaking, whispering into my wounded ears. I wished I could revel in it but it was far too chilly.
I trekked a long way up a hill, wondering if I should stop at the library for the peace I seek. But the library is not truly a library to me. It has books. But it is a place of social activity. A place of noise despite silence supposedly being common with it. Too many voices of people. Too many eyes that speak judgments. Too many ears listening, waiting, hoping to hear a voice so the mouth it is paired with may speak back to the voice. Even books speak as well, they are practically chatting up a storm with every page turned, and every bad ending scorned by the reader.
So I found myself walking past the library’s gates, the falsehood of peace, and onward to a new location. The Art Building. I thought the art building would be quiet of course. On my way there I looked up to the sky, seeing the dark-blue sky with freckles of white light peeking out through the blue. It reminded me of a face, as if someone was looking down at the world with its vastness. I then looked to my right, seeing the sun in all of its radiant glory shining in the heavens. But I wondered if the sun was a part of that face I saw? Did it fit together with our sky? Or was the sun a mere outsider in our sky, a friend or enemy of the sky I wondered. Around the sun the sky was cloudless, so I wondered maybe the sun and the sky were separate entities that made a deal with the other.
At times the sky will be cloudless, for the sun wishes to speak to the world alone. It wanted its hums and melodies to beat down gently to the grown without the sky obstructing its passions. Other times the sky will cover the sun with clouds, so only its infinite voice of gloom and consoling calmness can be heard.
The sun. That showy Bastard I thought. It truly wishes to be seen, to be heard! I felt for the sun as much my heart aligned with the sky in part as well. Was I a sun that wanted to shine and be heard alone? Or was I the sky that wished to yell, surrounded by more of myself?
But the sky and sun distracted me from my quest too long, and so I went to the art building. But alas people were there. More noises of course. I should have known from the fact that art may speak a thousand words. Even if those words are not heard with ears but felt within our hearts.
Onward I must go. I made my way outside again, showered in the light of the bright sun, making my way forward to the music building. For some reason I thought not many people would be there so I decided to check it out, thinking, it shall be quiet! But it was far noisier than the art building. I heard no music yet. Just people. More voices. I went upstairs, moving upward towards the new closed in sky in hopes I will find peace. Alas, I did not find it quite as Imagined.
I instead found a short corner on the third floor where there were a series of windows to my left. I sat down on a couch, immediately peeking at my phone to try to distract myself from the beaming light in the window. Still, the moment was stolen from me by a cunning thief. Sunlight hurt my eyes, there were trombones playing in the room next to me; melodies played of all kinds; perhaps pieces of history I was unfamiliar with. It was not silent as I had desired.
Suddenly, as the moments of time passed from one to the other. I found myself in a graceful moment of peace. The clouds blocked the sun and the music disappeared. I found peace, but unfortunately, it was brief. So brief, the passing of time, those slippery seconds that ticked on by. The sunlight struck my eyes again and the music continued.
I decided that my search for peace was not here so I left the building, my ears then barraged by the head-on collision of noise of elderly people gathered in one room. A conference of sort. Of course I jested! Just my luck. Down the stairs I go, hoping to get out as soon as possible.
Once outside I found myself greeted by a cool wind. I thanked the wind kindly. It was trying to cool my head from the heated rage that filled it a fairy tale or two ago. The sunlight had disappeared now, the sky had won I thought. The sky was darker and grayer. It had bested the mighty sun. But oddly enough now the sky was silent. Where was its whispers? Its cries? Oh, sky, my ears do not wish to hear any sounds but not all sounds from your mouth are so sour. Sometimes your sounds are sweet to taste those sugary tastes of embellishing pleasantness on a peaceful day. A silent day. But I knew it would never be truly silent for me. Nor would it ever, in any reality, be quiet for the sky either.
Somewhere, somehow, the sky had to deal with its own noise. The sun was screaming at it from above for it to be heard, the clouds screaming back, planes zooming by, shuttles piercing it to reach further than Heaven, air blimps, football games, fast cars, and the Earth itself were all yelling at the sky. I felt sorry for the sky, but I was a mere human. I too was screaming at the Sky somehow. I may have yelled for it to stop raining, begged for it to snow, or even asked for a cloud to block that dastardly sun. I apologize dear sky. Your woes outweigh mine.
I made my way to the street, now being bombarded by the sounds of cars racing by and construction being constructive with its noise. I realized I could not escape the noises that surrounded me. The sound of a man climbing a painted rock, the sound of three people having a talk. The sound of birds chirping, music playing, cars moving, and nature being so perplexing. I continued my walk, thinking- thinking made a lot of noise too- but it was a calmer noise. It was in my head. It was a sound I wanted to hear. It was music to my ears. I thought maybe I should write a poem about today, making it sound intellectual and deep some way.
Alas, I am not that bright I thought. I am not the best writer, not yet, I fought.
I saw another dorm, a Subway within. I felt hungry. Now hunger was my new enemy. The next foe in a long line of champions waiting to best me! A stomach, the strongest foe, growling at me like a beast for its own nourishing noise. It sought food. I sought peace. Perhaps they were both the same thing. A beast seeking to survive, my stomach and I both was. And peace and food were one and the same, eluding us so easily, but they were both right in front of us! Cruel. Utterly cruel our survival is.
I could sit down by a tree, write like a genuine writer with nature, but unfortunately trees do not have outlets for my laptop or phone. I was too attune with a different nature, the nature of civilization instead of the naturalization of our environment. I apologize, dear tree, maybe some other writer will give you company.
I realized I was walking back to my dorm, my quest a failure. I could not escape the noises, or the voices scratching against the walls in my head. My mind told me it was okay, you would find a way. A lie of course. Because peace was an abstract idea in and out of itself. I could never truly find peace unless I was alone. Away from the world and its many noises. But I could not do that. I could not become an extraterrestrial thought that no one would think of which meant there would be no noises of people trying to think me up.
Oh blasted it! I thought of it, myself. So even in a fantasy land of no noises, there would still be noises. I am my own thought, and I am reaching a hand to myself. Even in my own imagination it is noisy because I am trying to get inside my own head. I am such a jerk to myself.
Up the hill, around a path (back again past that blasted library), more noises waited me. Cars with loud music people talking and walking, a person with a car, and suddenly I was at a stop. I was on a walk of course. I was on a walk but also a quest as I searched for peace. But here I am at a crosswalk. There was me, the road with white lines like bars on a cell window, and the goal on the other side.
I had to wait for the car that did not notice me to go by, and another of course. But a biker stopped for me, what a nice guy. I walked by him, head down, eyes away and feet leading me down my way. Once I got across the biker revved up his bike and was on his way too until he came to an abrupt stop I heard.
His bike did not seem to be in the best of order and I wondered if it had broken down, and asked myself should I help. But I didn’t. I kept walking, trying to focus on my quest, as I saw people staring. Thankfully, he managed to get it moving and was on his way again. Lucky him, good for him, he was back on his quest.
I did not even realize until later that his bike made a noise. A noise I heard but had not heard all at the same time. Some noise is heard but never truly heard. Thus sadness, despair, and grief are noises that are never heard. No, they are sounds that are felt I thought. It would be an irreparable injustice for our ears to hear the other’s pains. They must be felt! Let our robust, stoic blood pumping organs listen to one another’s anguishes.
My dorm was now down the hill I at first went up on this journey. I went down it, back to the front door, where I was taunted with yet more noises of the people within the lobby. I made my way in utter defeat to the locked door to the side. I swiped my car, the key, to let me in. I went to the elevator that awaited me with a wicked smile. The elevator was already on the first floor of course. I thought how mean, I had to take a long walk, and now here is the elevator waiting to take me back to my floor. Now, when I have given up, does life make things easier for me?
I got in the elevator, swiped my card again, and I was to be whisked away to the 6th floor. The elevator made a hum with a beep as I passed each floor until I made it back to my own.
My journey had come full circle and now I am here again. I thought to myself: “Back to my room? Now? Will he be there? Will he also be there? Will she be there?” I could not do it. So I walked past my room into the lounge. It was quiet. No one was here. It was dark. Little light peeked into the windows. I decided to sit down in the darkest part of the room and opened up my laptop yet again. It was quiet.
My dorm was in a 24 hour time period of “quiet hours.” But it was not truly quiet for me. Nor ever was it. I heard few people’s voices in the long hallway behind me- a much longer hall if I decided to go into my room- and I could hear the very slight, calming ac in the room. Even the sound of the laptop I longed to touch made a sound with every button I pressed. Maybe it is I who do not know what I truly want.
To live. To die. To try. To cry. I sigh.
Silence is never silent. Quiet is “quiet.” And peace…is never peaceful.
Where shall I walk to next…?
What battle of nature awaits me?
Another brief moment of silence…maybe…?
Someone slammed their door. I am going back to my room.
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