Noises, all around me. It’s overwhelming. The clock ticking, the distant keyboard clicks, everything. It won’t stop. Tick. Tock. Click. Clack. This is supposed to be the calmest place on campus. A new noise. People chattering about insignificant things. Tapping pencils and smudging erasers. Libraries are supposed to be for quiet reading and studying. I’m supposed to hear silence. Nothing, but that’s not the case. I hear librarians talking amongst themselves. Here I sit. Writing. Using my brain to pour my emotions onto a digital piece of paper, for others to read later on. It’s too noisy, too loud. It’s horrible. I’m losing my mind in this small room full of words on paper and noises in my ear. It’s so loud that it feels almost as if the books themselves are screaming to be read. This poem is barely distracting me from the madness going on around. The noises stop. How peculiar. It was like a roaring crowd a minute ago. Not even, seconds. Why? Why is it so quiet? What made everyone go silent? Was it me? I was the only one not talking, so it must be me. Right? I don’t know. The silence is unsettling. I thought this would be paradise, sitting in an empty room, getting all work done with no other distractions but myself. It hurts. It’s almost as bad the noises. It leaves me with my thoughts. Thoughts. Horrible thoughts. “Your poem won’t good enough! No one will even read it.” I hear, calling for my attention. I’m spacing out again. I’ll never get any work done. This is madness. Either complete silence, left only with my depressing thoughts, or so loud that my eardrums might disintegrate. This is indeed a cruel world. Cruel books. Cruel library. Cruel, life.