• November 19Chickenpox Outbreak in US, Thanks to Anti-Vaxxers

  • November 19US Man Jailed For Life After Murdering His Family

  • November 19Deadly Shooting at Chicago Hospital

  • November 19Outrage after Bill Maher disses comic book culture after Stan Lee's Death

  • November 15LeBron James passes Wilt Chamberlain for fifth on NBA's all-time scoring list

  • November 15Blake Snell and Jacob deGrom win 2018 Cy Young Awards

  • November 14Camp Fire Becomes Deadliest Fire in California History

  • November 14Exoplanet Discovered Around Neighbouring Star

  • November 2Migrants Traveling to US To Sue Trump: Claim Violation Of Constitutional Rights


Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.

Email This Story

(Picture it: I’m in a small town on my porch at around 5 in the evening. It’s about 70 degrees and there are gentle winds blowing.) 
The occasional car passes down my street, but otherwise everything is silent.
During the day you can hear the chorus of birds chirping from the powerlines, and sometimes the wind gives a sigh through the trees or somebody’s front door closes.
The lady across the street comes home and asks how I’m doing. I say good, thanks, how’ve you been?
She nods and walks inside. I guess it was none of my business.
The wind blows a gentle breeze through my hair.
Church bells ring on Sundays and holidays, and flags wave hello to passersby from front porches and everything just seems so peaceful when you look at it from the outside.
But on the inside, words are thrown like knives at a circus and family dinners are accentuated by arguments and no eye contact and little kids sit out on the front porch because listening to the birds chirp is better than listening to mom and dad fighting again.
It’s five p.m. and a sense of loneliness washes over me.
I used to think I’d move to the city when I’m older, where cars are much more than occasional and you can’t hear the birds over the noise of drunken conversation and music from the party downstairs.
But sometimes I think I might miss this silence.