it’s 02:30am on a Tuesday. it’s a miserably cold November. I can see my breath lingering in the air. I can’t sleep again. I throw on my favorite hoodie and decide to go for a walk in the dark, hoping I’ll be able to find my way home. with no set-destination in sight, I begin to notice the streets look, and feel, different at night. there’s no one around and the only sound I can hear is my footsteps, crackling on the frozen ground beneath me. the silence is deafening and with it, I am reminded of my childhood and the fears I felt.
growing up with parents who are deaf was difficult; we were the ones on the front lines, always having to explain something to “the adults of the household.” kind of annoying, really. to make matters more difficult, apart from 2 or 3 friends, I was constantly bullied for having parents who were “not smart enough to hear.” kids can be the worst. I remember being someone who didn’t like going places, but would rather stay “stuck” in my room; finding comfort in video games and movies — a safe place where the “hero” was the only friend I wanted. I was afraid of being seen by other people. for the most part, I was alone: alone with my thoughts and my “friends.” for a long time, these were the only friends; having conversations with the shapes and shadows on my childhood bedroom wall — I had become the boy in the dark.
thinking back, I realize how lonely of a childhood I had. I was always around my sister, and I did have the 2 or 3 friends, but my comfort always came from being alone; almost like these cold streets I find myself walking. groaning at these memories I find myself lingering on, I turn around; heading back towards home. I guess what I’ve learned from those earlier days is that though many things have changed, things have also remained the same. I’m not looked at as “the boy with the deaf parents” anymore [in fact, many people seem interested..!] and I have more friends than just the 2 or 3. however, I also sometimes feel more alone than ever — I enjoy the presence of others, but I’m most comfortable alone; watching a movie or playing some video game. and sometimes, when the night falls and it’s [much too] quiet, I find myself sharing stories with the shadows on my wall: reminiscing on yesterday’s memories, wondering how I got this far.
I climb the stairs, up to to my room, and stare blankly at my clock: it’s now 04:45am. I crawl into bed and fall asleep for yet another night, knowing I’ll have to wake up again in another hour.
