Being deaf is funny to me. I laugh a little as I watch my boyfriend dance around to a song my ears are unaware of. I see his eyes crinkle as he laughs too and my heart melts. I begin to feel my smile fade as I looked down at my hands. I look up again when I feel soft hands caress my face.

"Are you okay?" He asks. I wanna tell him yes, but I feel my tears giving me away. I brought my hands up and huffed in frustration.

"I hate that I'm broken." I sign.

"Broken? What do you mean?" he signs back getting down on his knees to be eye level with me.

"I hate feeling like this! I could hear before, did you know that?! I grew up hearing, hearing the ocean, the rain, music, laughing, crying, just hearing." I signed but maybe I signed too fast cause his face twisted to a hint of confusion but brought his hands back up none the less.

"Love, just because you cannot hear anymore does not mean you cannot hear." he signed. I laughed again gaining a funny look from my boyfriend.

"Do you even know what you signed?" I asked then felt him take my hands and bring his face in front of mine so I could read his lips.

"You can feel cant you? You can touch me and you can touch the sand at the beach. You can also see. See me play the piano and see the lightning light up the sky. You can taste. Taste your mom's cooking and strawberry icecream. Baby, you can imagine the sounds. You don't need ears to hear as long as you have the determination to know what it sounds like. Like right now, you can feel my breathe cant you? You might not be able to hear me speak but you can feel it." he said and I started crying again.

"Yea but don't you get frustrated that I can't hear or speak?" I signed back hysterically.

"Did you not understand what I just said? You speak and hear in your own way and that makes me love you all the more. The way you communicate leaves me breathless. I love you and I love how you interrupt things and feel things. I love you." He said and then brought me in a hug as I cried.

I pulled him back as I told him 'thank you' over and over again. It's going to be fine, Im going to be fine.

Maverick sliced through the thickets with his good hand. The war had left the vines tangling everything, so he went out and sliced a little every day until the voices came back. He scratched the place where his arm abruptly ended. It was an awkward spot, and the woman that took it seemed to know it when she fired point-blank into his arm. He could still see those ravenous blue eyes, how she bit her lip as she smiled at her cruel handiwork, her voice as she whispered--

"Let go, you goddamn heathen!"

Maverick nearly dropped his knife, then raced towards the sound of the woman's voice. He raised his knife to see a tiny woman wrestling with a lynx. The poor creature had a dying rabbit in his teeth, and she had its neck in the crook of her elbow and her petite legs were clasping its torso. It tried to twist and gnash at her only to find itself feeling a fist.

"This wouldn't be happening if you didn't try to steal what was clearly mine!"

The cat snarled and she hit it again. Maverick cleared his throat.

"Need something?" she said without looking up.

"Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"He'll be fine if he lets go," she emphasized the last two words by constricting the cat longer.

Finally getting the message, the lynx dropped its prey and twisted to bite the young woman, but she turned at the last second and kicked it. The cat flew in the mud, snarled, and stalked off. The woman stood, barely coming to Maverick's nipples. She picked up the rabbit, who had bled out and died during the struggle, and went up to a tree. She lept up and pulled down two more dead rabbits, wrapped in cloth, and hopped down. Maverick just watched stupidly.

"You need something?" she asked.

"You are--"

"If you say short, I will cut you nipple to nipple," she growled. "I know I'm short."

"What made you?"

"Excuse me," she said, putting her hand on her hip.

"I mean, you wrestled a wild animal," he stammered.

"It took what was mine. I have kids to feed. I can't afford to lose food. You should know that, Tubby."

"You... Why wouldn't your husband take care of that?"

The woman scoffed at the notion. "I don't have a husband. I help my mother."

"Doesn't the state help you with your... handicap?"

She made a face. "Does it help you with yours?"

He said nothing. She slung the bag over her shoulder and pulled a knife that was easily half her size out of a bough of the tree and started to walk away. Something took over Maverick suddenly and he yelled, "Wait!"

"Why would I do that?" she called back, walking away.

"I just-- I-- I haven't spoken this long in ages. Please, I need to talk. I have been in quarantine and--"

"You're sick?" she said, stepping back despite the dramatic distance between them.

"No, I-- this--"

She smirked. "You look like you lost something."

Maverick chuckled. "It happens when you go to war too young."

"I know the feeling," she replied, rolling up her sleeve, flashing a war tattoo.

"Royal Parlor?"

"The one and only. Killed a lot. That's why I hunt and live at home now."

"I live with my sister and my niece," he muttered to the ground. "It is very difficult."

"I can imagine. Kids are cruel."

"Is that why you fight so good?"

The woman shrugged. "I fight because it teaches people to watch who they mess with. Don't you agree? Bet you wouldn't fight whoever stole your arm from you."

He was suddenly back on the battlefield, watching her tackling him. His heart was pounding as this woman pinned him and dragged him into the forest away from his squadron. He could smell the blood dripping off of her. They had called her Vilkas in the camp, and once their side had infiltrated their hiding spot, he saw why. She had ripped through people with a smile on her face. Now seeing her so close, he could see the trillions of scars that lined her worn skin. Her eyes lacked mercy for all she knew was bloodshed. She told him her whole story when she looked him, an innocent sixteen-year-old drafted unjustly, and still put a bullet directly into his arm.

The blast rippled through him, tearing his arm apart, pulling him down to the ground. The blood-soaked snow was gone, replaced my the squishy mud that he was clawing. He clutched his arm instinctively and looked around. The whole world had changed in an instant. He was alone again, in the middle of the forest, bleeding from where his machete had sliced through his pants as he had screamed out. The girl and her rabbits were gone. Vilkas was gone, killed shortly after he'd screamed in pain by his squad leader. He was just a man forced to grow up too fast, kneeling in the sludge, sobbing about the past. After a minute, he took a deep breath, got up, and started back to his house where his sister would be waiting with medicine and a hug. His mind briefly wandered back to the tiny woman but, deciding he would probably never see her again, he let the thought go and continued trudging back through the newly cut thickets.

A middle-aged man asked his aging father a strange question:

“Human beings have sex to have children. And they enjoy the process. Why is that? Why is the process of sex so sweet?”

The old man smiled a little and said:

“True, man enjoys to make a children, but he suffers so much to raise children to be a real human being.This suffering is worse than pleasure!”

***

Maybe that’s why humanity loves its children so much ?!

Tomorrow never knows, Beatles wrote

One more round of endless revolver

Dawn emerges, sunset takes over

Another set of hours goes by the name

Yesterday

In the meantime, a whale journeys on

Speaking to itself, "Where am I again?"

Temporary moments fade out

You remain polarized

Peer pressure lead to stress

Impression prioritized

Calling out the different

Accuse them of being spoilt

Life goes on

Nihility is harmful

Often useful too

To wipe the windshield

Have a clear view

In times of confusion

Need clear vision

Good to know

Surrender to chaos

Peace will follow

Eno once said something similar

Can it be true outside the art

In where reality often matters

A contradiction will occur

Life goes on

OCD is a parasite, feasting on your fears and your pains. Questioning you on actions of any kind, it mentally freezes you. Making you question what to do. Do I do this and stop the nagging that will just be stronger next time. Or dont do it, and continue with this thing in my head saying I may be hurt because I didnt do somthing right. Constant judgment of yourself, never ending asking if I did somthing right or wrong. Eventually it got so bad I couldnt go to school, or do simple tasks like brush my teeth. I avoided sitatuions that would wake the beast that is OCD. The beast that threatens me, knowing my fears and using them against me. A beast that does not sleep, making me have trouble sleeping when its strong enough. OCD can make you feel weak, and alone. I eventually went to a thearpy for OCD. At first I thought OCD will just go around everything I did against it. But when I do somthing against OCD, I grow stronger and it grows weaker. I met people with anxiety and OCD. I met people with mental beasts of their own. Together, with my new friends and my family, I did what OCD told me not to do. With strength and love, constant work, OCD lost its power over me. I do what I want. If OCD bothers me about doing somthing it wants, I dont listen to OCD. Everythtime I dont do what OCD wants, I gain my freedonm and independence. OCD may never be cured, but I have grown strong against OCD. I may be pushed down by OCD somtimes, but I just Ihhave to keep getting up and stopping it fom controlling my decsions. I gained a better life, my own life where I do or dont do what I want.