Ficly

Melophobia

Finally I’m home. I remove my ear piece and take my iPod out of my pocket. I don’t switch it off, because I don’t have to. It was never on.

My home is simply furnished. There is no television, no radio, but I do own a laptop. Of course, the volume is turned to zero. You never know when that horrible sounds would start blaring away.

I don’t remember when the fear started. Every time music played, my mind is filled with horrible images, mostly things I cannot make of. My heart starts beating faster, I start hyperventilating and my muscles paralyze. Images cloud my mind, and I lose the ability to control myself. Once it happens, I can’t return by my own will. Some one has to shake me, slap me, or perhaps splash me with the cup of ice tea on the table.

I don’t have friends. Effective communication takes talking and listening. Words are pleasant to my ears, but with ear plugs on all the time out of your house, it is quite impossible. Silence is my friend, until someone brave enough to break the barrier.

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