I walk through the door to the usual scene. Mom is yelling at Kate for something, and dad is yelling at mom for yelling, ironic. I just walk in; go past all of them into my room. No acknowledgement. No questions as to where I was, but, whatever, I’m used to it. I just lie on my bed listening to them. They’re so ignorant. None of this yelling is going to solve anything because the same thing happened yesterday, and the day before, and the same thing will happen tomorrow and the next day. I wonder if they know I’m home yet. Not one of them even looked at me. It’s like a screaming competition. I just want silence, not even to be noticed, just to know what quiet sounds like. I’m leaving. I can’t take it here. I need to go somewhere where hate doesn’t fill the air and life doesn’t revolve around who is the loudest. I walked past them again and not one looked at me. I walk until I can’t anymore. My legs are tired. I’m just going to sit here and listen. People walk by me and don’t say anything, but whatever, I’m used to it. I close my eyes and just listen. The quiet is beautiful. The sound of nothing is uplifting. Life is better on the streets. I like it out here. I’m never going back.