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Silence.
As much of a temperamental and despicable teenager as you might be, you knew well how to just appreciate a moment of silence. He'd built his own ideas about silence and it's nature of being. He'd read enough to comprehend a plethora of opinions regarding silence and what the stillness could mean or interpret. Most authors seemed to choose between two extremes; silence was an ominous sign of tempest or silence was a sacred moment of peace.
Karkat called bullshit on both definitions. True, as a highschool student in 2012, he really had no say on the matter. What could a middle-low class kid who is yet under the age to consume alcohol know on the nature about such an unsubstantial matter such as silence?
For one, he knew it was gloriously welcomed in this empty library hall.
He liked to think the quiet didn't need anything more to it. Quiet is just quiet. It's absence. There's no ulterior motive and no deeper significance to it. It wasn't a state of mind and it wasn't a warning of oncoming tragedies.
It was occasionally pleasant.
Like now.
...Fuck he better get that English scholarship; anymore of his own bizarrely lyrical escapades and he might as well /puke/. Scratching a hand through his unruly raven hair, he tried to focus on the task at hand; a mutilated sheet on physics and a few exercises regarding force.
Learning another language would be infinitely easier than this.
As much of a temperamental and despicable teenager as you might be, you knew well how to just appreciate a moment of silence. He'd built his own ideas about silence and it's nature of being. He'd read enough to comprehend a plethora of opinions regarding silence and what the stillness could mean or interpret. Most authors seemed to choose between two extremes; silence was an ominous sign of tempest or silence was a sacred moment of peace.
Karkat called bullshit on both definitions. True, as a highschool student in 2012, he really had no say on the matter. What could a middle-low class kid who is yet under the age to consume alcohol know on the nature about such an unsubstantial matter such as silence?
For one, he knew it was gloriously welcomed in this empty library hall.
He liked to think the quiet didn't need anything more to it. Quiet is just quiet. It's absence. There's no ulterior motive and no deeper significance to it. It wasn't a state of mind and it wasn't a warning of oncoming tragedies.
It was occasionally pleasant.
Like now.
...Fuck he better get that English scholarship; anymore of his own bizarrely lyrical escapades and he might as well /puke/. Scratching a hand through his unruly raven hair, he tried to focus on the task at hand; a mutilated sheet on physics and a few exercises regarding force.
Learning another language would be infinitely easier than this.
