Love, its and it will always be an action rather more than a saying. Nobody can really tell just about anyone that they love them. Its a feeling better expressed with action, and not by words, because...anyone can say they love someone without meaning it.
Anyone can say it without a care and people would still fall for it, believing it as if were the truth.
That was the way I lived, love was a word I could never decipher, a puzzle piece with broken ends. That is...until I met someone who taught me what love was.
At school I was often pushed far away from others, it wasn't because I was mean, it wasn't because I was weird. It wasn't that. The reason why people would keep me at an arms length, would be the fact that I was mute. Silenced as I would call it.
In class, I would always sit in the back, scribbling down words onto my paper. People, just because I couldn't talk, would think that I wouldn't be able to learn as well as the others. Stupid really.
I remember a time, in Kinder garden, when a mother came up to me with a fake smile on her
face. She didn't even introduce herself as she began to speak.
"Why don't you talk to the other little kids?" Her voice made me want to slap her, full of ignorance. My mother, talking to other parents soon noticed what was taking place. Saying goodbye to the couple she hurried to me, placing her hands on my shoulders.
"Is there a problem?"
The other mother placed her hands on her hips, "yes there is. Why doesn't your girl talk?" she then pointed to the other children in my class. "See all these kids, I hear them talking about your girl, and I'm wondering." She looked back to me "I'm wondering what the hell is wrong with her, I mean I know kids are shy. They're all not like mine who can start a conversation with anyone, but come on. She has to start speaking to the other kids before they're all friends with each other. Then she'll be alone. You don't want to be alone, right?"
She asked me, her face smug, I tried to keep myself from crying. I felt my eyes sting as a warning that I was just about to cry. My mother took my arm, pulling me behind her, with stern eyes. She calmly stated something to her, that made her spill idiotic words.
I found myself holding onto my pencil with so much force, that now it was slightly bent oddly. Breathing in and out I payed attention to my teacher again. Trying to get these useless memories out of my head.
I looked around the room, many kids where either passing notes or taking a nice long nap. One that the our teacher, Mr. Fries. Will love to ruin in order so that he could teach. I bit the tip of my eraser, as I stared at the white board scribbled with mindless words and numbers. Fifth grade math, yuck.
Snapping out of my daze, I saw myself looking straight at my teacher, he gave me a warning glance. That made me focus on my paper once more.
Through out my school life, I had people my age come up to me and begin conversations that
I will never be able to reply to.
I felt so happy when I would find someone who can talk to to others so easily, not caring who they were or that they will actually listen to them. It made me feel normal, they understood that I could never talk to them, but I could listen.
"Hey! I'm Alfred!"
I remember the day when I met my first real friend who I would love to spend so much time with. He was a blonde headed little boy with as much spunk and energy that will tire anyone and anything just by him talking. He was popular in school, people would always treat him like a best friend, and would often be asked to play with others.
"Cat got yah tongue, brah?"
Alfred raised a brow, smiling he placed a hand on my shoulder, "don't worry!" He jerked a thumb towards him "the hero will get it back!" He then puffed out his chest. I bit my upper lip, trying not to laugh, Alfred seeing this, smiled too.
"So what's your name? 'Cause I know yah have one!"
I fumbled to take out my tiny notepad and a pen from my pockets, I quickly scribbled my name onto the lined paper. Then shoved it in front of his face.
He gave me a shinning smile. Smiling myself I took my pen and began to write more, 'its nice to meet you, Alfred.'
Alfred was the only boy, the only person, who would actually hear the hidden voice I had within me. While the others grew bored of my countless writing. He was the only one who heard the real me, and not cared that the only way we communicated was through a slip of paper, and a cheap pen.
"Everyone take out a piece of paper, its time for a quiz, eyes straight. Legs in, I don't want anyone to talk, if you do, points will be deducted from your quiz."
My teacher spoke in a loud voice, doing as I was told, I heard footsteps coming from outside the door. Getting up from my seat, I went over to answer it, right before the person on the other side was able to knock.
"Ah," the person said in surprise, I stood at the door with a blank expression as the man before me gave me a cheeky smile.
"Hola, me llamo, Antonio~"