To be someone who enjoys the radio, but every station is static no matter where you go. The signal may flicker for a second or two, but it goes right back to static. You question if you even heard a word at all. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you. You can't tell.
Everybody else seems to be hearing the radio fine. Your friends, your family, strangers, even people who hate the radio. Some people even got to be radio station directors.
But not you.
It's never you.
And sometimes, you don't know how much longer you can be around the people who hear the radio without getting mad.
It's unfair.
But what can you do?
You can cry and scream and whine, but people will only have a distaste for you.
And you're happy they get to hear the radio, really, you are.
You see how they smile, the thrill flickering in their eyes and words to the music slipping off their tongues.
The radio worked for you once. It was better than most people's radios. Now every radio you own and buy rips it's claws through your skin, leaving bloody trails of static. Pain, and rage, courses through every bone in your body.
Because what are you without the radio?
