Post by GARRETT EDWARD MARCHEL on May 1, 2013 20:59:48 GMT -5
[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:140px; width: 275px; height: 230px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:15px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-left:5px; padding-right:5px]
Silence is a perfect thing. It is unbroken, and unquestioning. Some saw silence as uncomfortable, as distinctly foreign. Some even associated it with some misplaced sense of danger. This was ridiculous of course. There was nothing safer than silence. Silence couldn't argue, couldn't scream or shout or do any of those annoying things. And Silence couldn't accuse you, bring to light all the things you knew you had done wrong. Silence is perfect, because Silence is nothing at all. It is solitude, it is secrecy, yet it is nothing. And perhaps, that was why Garrett found it so appealing, why he found himself occasionally in search of it. How could anyone not desire the simple pleasure of silence? There were those that felt the constant need to speak, to be heard, and to hear others. The way Garrett saw it, if one embraced silence - there was so much more to hear, to see, to learn. Noise encased the ignorant in a narrow-minded world. Then again, perhaps all of this was simply a rationale. Maybe all of this was his way of saying to himself "I dislike the rambunctious noise of college life". But did it really matter? A preference was a preference, and simply put - nothing more. An identity was really made up of preferences, of preferences and history and weaknesses. Some might add strength to that list, but Garrett never did. Strengths were really just what remained when your weaknesses were taken away. And did a strength even really form someone? Or did their weaknesses? Were we defined by what we could do, or what we had failed to do? Garrett had always believed it to be the latter option.
The young man in question raised his head. He had been sitting in the library, a lone quiet corner tucked away. The library was a quiet unassuming place, one where he could hide out and pretend for a moment he was exactly where he wanted to be. It was where he could be alone with his thoughts, away from alliances and accusatory glances. Away from Jeremy, Garrett's relationship with his elder brother had been a disaster, increasingly so in the past months. Garrett was anything but blind to his own faults. But that didn't keep him from abstaining from judgement on others, though he assumed they passed judgement on him. It was natural, instinctual in every way. Life was a selfish thing, focused on survival and the betterment on one's self. He rolled his neck, stretching. His eyes were tightly closed. He had no intention of leaving until some noisy idiots ruined his peace.
He knew the idiots in question would arrive soon enough. They always did, in pairs or with professors, always squealing and whining. They could see no concept bigger than themselves. His nose wrinkled with distaste. He knew he had been quite the same as a child, and as a teenager, but he had shed this stage of his life quickly. He turned his head, glancing around. Silence still encased him, each moment beautiful. Garrett closed his eyes again. But what did any of this matter? He was and would forever be happy in his solitude.
