We all just want to be understood; or perhaps we just want to be heard.I have a memory of sitting at a kitchen table crying quietly, my parents in the next room, the door open, them not even turning. They heard, but did not hear.
That night I sat in front of the basin in my room and ran it full of warm water. I dipped my head and contemplated putting it under and breathing in. Someone once told me that drowning is easy, though they were alive and undrowned so how could they know? The best plan, I thought, would be to have chloroform, to sit in a warm bath and make yourself pass out. Then it would all be over. They had chloroform at my school, locked in the chemistry lab. I often thought of trying to steal it.
As on this night, I was never brave enough.
I still want to be heard. Sometimes I call out at night, alone. Sometimes inside. Sometimes outside. Sometimes under the moon, at the trees, at passing cars.
No one hears.
PS: In the hope of being heard, I joined clix. Please give me a clix. Thank you.
