You would think after 7 months living with something that you would get used to it, but you don't. Or maybe it's that after a certain time you get used to it and then after a little bit of being used to it and tuning it out that it just becomes annoying, sometimes unbearably so. This thing that I speak of is yelling. I have lived 7 months with a family that yells almost constantly, whether it's because they're excited or mad or want attention or just because they can. It's only quiet when no one is around.
Those are the golden moments. Those are the moments when I just stand in the hall at the top of the stairs and listen to the sounds of the house. The unsyncronized ticking of the clocks, the hum of the heaters, the whistling wind and usually the rain dancing on the roof. Those are the moments I treasure. They are rare.
Maybe van Gogh had the right idea when he chopped of his ear. Sure it was because he was crazy, but I think there was some sense to it. Maybe he grew up in a family that yelled all the time too. Maybe he just got so sick of it that he took a knife to his ear. Or maybe it was just because he thought it would shut up the voices in his head.
I count the days until I can go back to the silence of my home. There it's only the sound of hammers, drills and saws. It's quiet there. Home is where my sanity is.
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