Don't Speak

Do you know when they say: "Shut up"?

Well, that's one thing no one will ever tell me. Not because I say fine things or because I have a enjoyable voice, it's just that there's no need.

I was born with mutism, so I just cannot talk. I hear, I move, I see, I feel... but I don't speak. But I think know what mutism is, right?

Enough talking about mutism, Mom said writing a journal would be a way to express myself, not mutism.

So, dear journal, here I am, expressing myself, whatever that means. I'm a pretty messed up person, you'll discover it later. You can't refuse to hear me now, you're in it, like it or not. :-D

My name is Melody Mirrell, I'm twelve years old and I go to NextGen, a middle school near my house.

NextGen. Sounds cool, huh? :)

Well, it's not. :/

It's just a normal school, with normal teachers, normal subjects, normal students and... me. You didn't expect me to say I'm part of the normal kids, right? That would be a lie. And no, I'm not pessimist. I'm just realistic.

But enough with school, let's get to who I really am.

My family is made of my mom and me. My dad leaved when my mom was pregnant and I'm the only child my mom has. I have grandma Ophelia and a couple of aunt and uncle: aunt Lily and Uncle James and... a cousin named Harry! (just like in Harry Potter!) When I knew that aunt Lily was pregnant, I begged them to name their baby Harry!

He's six months old. I really love him and I'm lucky we live only twenty minutes away. He loves to be held by me and he is always so happy when I go to his house. Harry is still too small to know about mutism, but it happens that he notices. For example, once aunt Lily read him a toddlers book, one with huge, brief text and a lot of colorful pictures. When she went to cook dinner, Harry wanted me to continue reading. And I couldn't.

I want to tell Harry how much I love him, to tell Mom she is the best mom ever with something that isn't my fingers, but I can't.

I'm glad she knows how much I love her and loves me even twice that much, but I still feel wickedly powerless. No one values words as much as me. People talk: the cashier, the teacher, my classmates... and I don't.

"You're such a good listener", they say.

I just smile, but I think: "And what else in the world could I be doing?!"

I know, journal, I'm depressing. But if I survive you can too, dear. :/

Now, let's talk -ha, talk, me?- about my other great passion: books.

I always read a lot, since my mom really likes reading too. In a book you can find a friend. It's entertaining and it keeps your mind and vocabulary sharp. For example, reading "Little Women" is as fun as watching a series, since... well, do I really have to explain why "Little Women" is interesting?

And no, my favourite book isn't "The Silence of the Lambs". Nice try, though.

I often feel bad about... all that, you know. She doesn't talk a lot to comfort me, she just hugs me and says:

""Being a mother is an attitude, not a biological relation." And my attitude towards you will never, ever change. Unless your own towards yourself does."

I always feel better: my mood is like a swing and Mom is the only one that knows how to handle me.

Unfortunately, the world often doesn't make it easy to "not change my own attitude towards myself".

I've got a big fan club at school: they really cover me...

In the sense that they have always got me covered on the bullying: something like bullying shifts, you know.

I imagine that when they gather they arrange who will bully me when.

Like:

B.B. (Bully Boss): "Jeff, can you cover the bullying the last two hours?"

Jeff: "But, Boss! Why always me?"

B.B.: "Because, Jeff, you're the dumbest and the last two hours are the easiest shifts since your colleagues already tired her in the previous ones."

Jeff: "Okay, fine."

They don't miss a chance.

"Why so speechless?", "Cat got your tongue?" and "Say something, can you?" are the most heard sentences.

Last year I did a Spotify Wrapped with bullying: the people that bully me more, the time I spent being bullied, the sentences they tell me more...

"I've got a thick skin and an elastic heart,

but your blade, it might be too sharp", like Sia said.

Oh, Mom is calling me. I need to go, but I'll see you later. Bye, journal!

P.S: Writing a journal is a-m-a-z-i-n-g!

Hey there! Me again.

Today I went to school and I got my head stuffed with things I probably won't need in my life.

My day was again delightful thanks to my bullies, like I said.

Today, after school, I went to aunt Lily and Uncle Tom's and played with Harry. Funny how a six-months-old has a higher emotional I.Q. than all my classmates, right? I tried drawing a lightning scar on his forehead, but aunt Lily said I couldn't. It's true Lily's love helps Harry not get scars then! :-D

I anyways picked him up and mouthed: "Yer a wizard, Harry!".

My grades are soaring, really! I'm improving. Not in oral presentations, of course. I'm very good in English: I told Miss Jean, my English teacher, that I read "Romeo and Juliet", "Hamlet" and "Macbeth" and she basically fainted! We had a nice conversation about literature during recess, since she understands the sign language.

Time to set the table! :-D

See you tomorrow!

Dear diary, today has been a awful day. Harry, aunt and uncle are out of town and Mom had to do extra work, so I'm alone.

Today, there was a presentation about someone that wasn't our parents that we loved deeply and I chose Harry.

What did my bullies do? Start making fun of it.

And I got mad. Madder than one could think I could be. They're lucky I can't speak, otherwise they would have heard Melody Mirrell swear for the first time.

During recess, a boy came and told me:

"Oh, look, Melody, only losers such your cousin like you".

I think I had one of the most red faces in the courtyard, but I gritted my teeth and tried to hold back any reaction, but the boy continued.

When he said: "Why so speechless, Mirrell? You see, your cousin likes you because he can't talk either", I got furiously mad.

No one will EVER make fun of Harry and emerge unscathed. NO ONE. You can make all the fun you want of me, but do not touch my family. Ever.

He kept repeating that.

When I stood up to walk away, he said: "Yeah, and what are you going to do about it? Oh, look, I'm trembling from fear!". He was mocking me.

He smirked. He wanted me to react, I was sure. I knew I shouldn't have reacted, but I just couldn't help it.

And... I punched him. Right in the face.

It all happened very fast: he fell back, a hand on his mouth, both shocked and angry. His mouth was full of blood and, faster than I understood, he was brought to the nurse and I was brought to the principal's office.

I sat there, looking at the pictures on the walls, not daring to look in the principal's eyes. He just sat there too, his fingers steepled, waiting for Mom to come after he called her. I think my face was redder than usual, because the principal often looked at my face. Or maybe he was just wondering how could lips that look so normal not let out any word.

After a long time -or what seemed like one-, Mom came in the office. I can't describe her face when she crossed the threshold. She was... sad and disappointed, I think. She looked at me and sat on the other chair in front of the principal's. I lowered my eyes as soon as they encountered Mom's. I didn't deserve her concern.

I felt guilty for not feeling sorry towards that guy, but I really didn't. The half an hour the principal talked to Mom felt like an eternity. I was all shaking and I felt like I was going to cry, but I knew I had to not. I felt like a fool. Maybe that was my place in the world, being a fool, and I just had to bear others making fun of me. But that was EXACTLY the point: this time they weren't making fun of me, they were making fun of Harry.

When finally Mom stood up and the principal shook hands with her, I automatically stood up too and followed Mom to the car with my head low. I was suspended and, since it was Friday, I had the whole weekend to think about it.

I walked through the school to the exit with more eyes than usual fixed on me. I wished to not be there, maybe at all. Maybe Mom would be better off without me, I thought.

After a minute that we were in the car, Mom looked at me in rearview mirror and asked me: "You know that's wrong, right?" and I nodded.

"This isn't the right way to defend yourself and others". I nodded again.

"But how are you feeling now?" she asked after a few seconds.

"Guilty, hopeless and... broken-hearted" I told her in the sign language.

"Melody, honey, just know this one thing and only this one" she continued.

I expected her to say something like: "Don't do that ever again".

But she simply said: "I love you".

And that's when I started crying.

What did I do to deserve something like that? I was such a hopeless child and she just loved me.

"Just remember that, Melody" Mom told me while I got in my room. I nodded and closed myself in my room, then I started writing the journal and here I am.

"I promise I'll never do something like that again", I thought. Not because I felt guilty, but because Mom doesn't deserve such trouble.

There is one thing I wonder: will I ever be seen? Truly be seen? I want to be happy, will this ever change? Maybe I am stronger than I think, like Mom always says.

"Silence doesn't have to be loud to be noticed": but is that true?

Because all I can do right now is stay silent.