H8 Radio

The love song plays on the radio, but there's no love in my heart. I turn the volume up,
and try to feed my hate. The gentle words of love become a roar of fury in my headphones.
My ears hurt, my head pounds. The singer shrieks in terror, the band out of control. The radio
smokes, or is it my brain?

I jerk on the headphone cord, and it leaps from the socket. The radio roars with its tiny speaker,
but I ignore its protests as I throw it across the room. It crashes into the table lamp, and together
they fly to the floor and smash into pieces. The room goes dark, the radio goes silent, and I am left
alone in the black, listening to the silence through a cheap pair of headphones.

At least, I still have my hate.

 

Ed Hoyer Jr.
August 14, 1992