You’ve heard a lot of things you never wanted to hear. You’re the abused tunnel between my loud music and hungry brain. My parents used to insist I’d have hearing problems but here you are still hearing so well. Sometimes too well. You hear the whispers you piece together easily. You hear conversations I intentionally left and arguments from a childhood long abandoned. You hear the crowd of chatter growing into a roar and together we feel overwhelmed and scared. Sometimes it’s just too much. But still you allow me to hear the wind singing through the trees, gentle bird noises from an open car window. Always, my ears, you are listening and telling me what this world has to offer, good or bad. Sometimes when I get drunk I close my eyes and put my drink down and I dance in the sound you let come through without taking a single step. It’s a beautiful feeling. I’m sorry I’ve pierced you and infected you. Even with such hardships you never leave me stranded.