An Afternoon at 19

Today, I daydreamed about what it would be like if I didn't have tinnitus. Life would be so much better and easier.

I remember what silence was like and it was wonderful. I envy people who can lie in bed in the quiet mornings and read a book because I can't do this anymore. I envy people who can go to bed and appreciate the peace and quiet of the experience. Bedtime is my noisiest time.

What scares me is how my condition progresses. Since I got it, it has gradually gotten worse. Usually in jumps. One day, I'll wake up and it'll be worse. I will get used to it. Then four months later, I'll wake up again and it'll be worse. And I'll have to get used to it all over again.

This time it feels like I can't get used to it. It's gotten bad. It's no longer a continuous noise like before. The background noise is still there but now there are different tones that stop and start. I can't block out something when it changes so often.

I'm scared about what it'll be like 10 years or 20 years from now.

I'm sad that there is no treatment or cure.

I miss and crave my younger years (when I didn't have this) with this aching desperation and depression that I don't think I'll ever be able to get rid of.

10 years from now I won't even remember what that precious silence felt like. When I was nine and would lie in my mum's bed on Sunday morning when it was quiet without a second though. Complete freedom and joy and childish hope and all this shit I don't have anymore.

Now I'm crying on the ground floor of science library. It seems like there are people all around but I'm stuck here in this imperfect and abnormal state. It's been years now. Years. It almost feels normal now, even though it still bothers me, to hear this constant sound. But when I compare it to what I used to have, I feel so empty and alone and hopeless.

J