Page 181 - creative spark 2020

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And what tamed it was my moral compass.
They envied me, and my morality was just a snobby mask.
They shunned me, messed up my locker’s key, tore my P.E. outfits,
humiliated me in the hallway--those were somehow acceptable for
the young me, but not after they spread my story to other kids in the
tutoring school, who soon became my schoolmates. Oh lord, did
my life plummet as if it were a hailstone.
Schoolmates didn’t listen to my words anymore. I thought
I was being a good person, letting them take the stage. I was.
I actually was the nicest person in that school. And what do nice
people get? Their voices unheard, never to be used again, forever
lost, and it was too late to realize that.
I kept the problem to myself, striving to be a good kid, and
started to search for the cure. The moment I decided I wanted to
be a healer, and stepped into the fathomless sea at the same time.
I would do anything to get my voice back.

Soon, mom and dad found the drugs. It wasn’t a bad thing.
At least they helped me get straight A’s. They asked me why
I didn’t tell them about my voice? Don’t I trust them anymore?
Wasn’t it obvious that their advice was useless? Being a good
person?

Oh, please.
By the time I got into the healer’s academy, my loudest
shout was just a whisper for the voiced. As if the Heaven accepted
my prayers, I stumbled upon an ancient scroll.