The Cassette Player

It’s extremely loud in here. Do you hear that clatter, too? 

I don’t think anybody really does, and I feel like I am the only one who hears things.

People around me are crazy. They appear normal. The noise doesn’t bother them.

Why do they seem calm and collected though?

I am annoyed, nervous, and panicking. I want to be indifferent just like them and dance to the noisy tune. But my ears are bleeding and my brain is about to flare up into fireworks.

The echo is exasperating me inside out.

Nobody hears me begging for the screeching music cutoff. 

For once, I wish someone would listen to me and take me seriously and know that I am not crazy. I just don’t like the chiming voice of that singer. The chorus is out of balance.

Back in my days, music had style, meaning, and harmony. It wasn’t just the drums, piano, accordion, the saxophone, or the brasses, but you could hear the melodies between the lines.  

What happened to this generation?

How is everything that has sound is music?

If you asked me, this is a disturbance in brain cells. The sound is irritating me immensely.

I cannot take it anymore. I just can’t. The noise is getting louder. I am screaming for it to stop. 

“Mr. Fletcher, are you okay?” Says a tall lady I’d never seen before. “You look disturbed.”

If she knew how the vibration is impairing my ears, she wouldn’t be asking me such a stupid question.

”What is disturbing you, Mr. Fletcher?”

She continues to infuriate me more than the damn song. 

Whenever she says something, even her voice begins to irk my senses.

I ignore her idiocy. 

I figured, she’s one of those hippies, who walk around and parade to any drum bangs. Otherwise, she would run to the other room, yank the cassette player, and shut up the humming woman for good. 

Unless, of course, I’m solely the only one hearing and whimpering to the loud voice altogether.

Am I really crazy?

No!

That can’t be right, because, crazy people do not hear songs, but dance to the rhythm of soothing sounds in their heads.

Let it just be a dream, a whisper of a terrible dream.

Can it be true that I am really insane?

”Mr. Fletcher, it’s medication time, ” says the same lady. This time, she is holding a tray full of cups that have rainbow pills.

Medication for who? Does this mean I’m living with wackos? am I a sick man?

No, I cannot be a madman! I am just an ordinary individual, but the people around me are the craziest.

MidnightInk 8-8-2020