Music is my best friend. It is the first thing I hear when I wake up and last whisper in the air before I close my eyes. It carries me throughout the day, wingless beats, a constant rhythm as I move my feet. The volume so loud I can feel the bass resonate deep in my bones… so strong that I fear my ears may bleed from the force.
A welcome shock, a beautiful pain. Maybe, just one time, with the music so loud it will shatter this glass cage.
Always on the outside, forever looking in.
Nameless faces pass in a blur, heads bowed, eyes counting every crack and crevice, every imperfection. And I sit and stare, willing one person, just one, to look in my direction. My forehead feels like it has been glued to the pane, I spend hours every day gazing. Gazing and waiting. Waiting and hoping.
One day, this hope will run out, my heart and mind tired from fruitless attempts. Until then, I pass the time with music.
Music is my only friend. If it ever stops, I’m afraid my heart will cease to beat as well.
The sounds begin to blend together with time, stronger beats mellowing into softer sounds as my ears grow tired with their effort. Increase the volume. Feel the bass resonate down into my soul. The vibrations so deep the glass begins to shiver. I shudder in anticipation, my breathes coming quicker. Condensation grows on the clear surface before me, clouding my vision.
It starts very slowly, a sound almost too soft to hear through the thump of the bass. I hear the light creak as the first fissure forms, spreading quickly throughout my entire glass cage. The noise grows slowly, with pops and creaks echoing in time with the rhythm of the song. Each new fissure that breaks off from the original forms it’s own set of cracks and soon my entire glass prison looks like a beautiful, yet dangerous, painting.
For one chilling second, everything around me pauses. The song fades out and the final whole piece of glass splinters. I have just enough time to smile, when a sound, louder than any music I have ever played, rockets through my head. The glass around me collapses, tiny shards falling unceremoniously all over.
Every piece that strikes my flesh leaves a jagged scar as years of suffering come flooding back into my mind. A self-imposed prison. Always outside, only looking in. Years of mental and emotional abuse flash back into the forefront of my mind. Everything happens for a reason. I once had a reason for shutting myself away. Lock up the pain, push away the offenders, live in solitude. Introvert. Shut-in. Closed off. Outsider.
But music had other ideas. Music saved my soul.
Daily Prompt: The Outsiders
Tell us about the experience of being outside, looking in — however you’d like to interpret that.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us OUTSIDE.