Whisperings buzzing in his ears but they just would not stop. Irritation.
Why could they not understand? Frustration.
What made them so persistent? Desperation.
He wanted to pick his pen up and start writing but he could not bring himself to. Such disgust he was filled with, that those words seemed to turn straight to ash. Sentences stopped making sense, and words started to look confusing. The haunting growls sounded surprisingly soothing when drowned out by the drum and bass. Peace and quiet actually sounded deafeningly annoying.
Perhaps his neurons were wrongly wired. Perhaps he was never meant for this world. Perhaps he spoke a different tongue somehow. Perhaps he loved pain just a little too much. Perhaps his existence was only in his imagination. Perhaps, perhaps, he should just go fly a kite.
Afterall, the Sun will continue to shine, regardless.
