I’ve always been able to hear things.
Things others can tune out.

I’ve tried medication.
The pills never worked.

Multiple types of therapy.
Labels never stuck.

I’ve always been able to hear things.

The tap of water from the faucet,
three doors down.

The scratch of pencils on paper,
echoing around the classroom.

Bags crinkling open,
crushed by hungry hands.

Swallowing.

Crunching.

Breathing.

I’ve always been able to hear things.
Things others can tune out.

I can’t focus.
My chest hurts.

Hands crushed to my ears.
The sounds won’t be blocked out.

Why won’t it stop?