A Teenager’s Headphones
Are your headphones bleeding music?
I run out of the kitchen, cannot stand another yelling and fighting between the two of them. Every morning! I can’t fathom how did they even got married. The yelling and curses get louder than my soul can bear to hear. I run out.
Headphones.
I get on the school bus. Usual seat. Staring out the window. The kids on the last seat are making comments about how uncool my t-shirt is and how poor I am to be from this neighbourhood. I don’t have response.
Headphones.
Open the door of the classroom to find out a substitute teacher sitting at the desk, since my math teacher is still getting her chemo regularly. The note on the chalkboard reads, “This is not a free lecture. Self study or make a hobby project.” Sigh. I sit in my seat. Open my sketchbook. Pencils.
Headphones.
The minute-hand of the clock finally touches 12 and the bell rings; I’m out of the class the next instant. Lunch-time. Cafeteria. “Shit. It’s yesterday’s leftovers. I’ll just have an apple and a banana.” I grab a juice pack and sit alone at the single’s table. I notice the girl in front. I smile. She goes back to eating. And me,
Headphones.
The hour-hand of the clock has given us freedom at four. Quickly pack my bag and head out of the class. “I’m walking home today, need no more shit from the bus-mafia.” Out through the school gates and
Headphones.
After some walking, suddenly there’s a tap on my shoulder. I look back and it’s the same girl from the cafeteria. She’s smiling. She’s mouthing something to me, but I couldn’t hear. I took off my
Headphones.
I drop her off on her street and head to mine. I’m dwindling in the memories of her smiling face. Her brown eyes. Her dark hair. Her smooth skin. Her sweet words. Her presence was just like the music from my
Headphones.
I get home and grab my dinner from the kitchen. Head upstairs to my bedroom. I’m at the window. Eating. Looking at the sunset. Thinking of her now. I grab my sketchbook. Pencils.
Headphones.
I’m in my bed. The lights are out. Her touch on my shoulder won’t fade away. She had me captivated. I was out into interstellar explorations of the melody she felt like to me, an ear-worm that won’t give up. I needed something to help me sleep tonight, to wake up tomorrow and be her music from my
Headphones.
I write Open Letters to Medium, talk about millennials, ruminate over poems I wrote a decade ago, write poems about good-byes, crazy ex-girlfriends & simple murders.
You can hit me up at hi@writealetterforme.com. Prefer chai-tea over coffee 😋
