Quiet Hours: Julie

The house around you is dead silent, save for the low, rhythmic hum of your desktop tower and the plastic clatter of your keyboard. It’s 2:14 AM. Down the hall, your parents are asleep, completely oblivious to the vast, agonizing distance you’ve built between their world and yours. They love you—or at least, they love the idea of who they want you to be—but they look at your heavy silver lip ring, your jet-black zip-up, and the dark eyeliner smudged around your eyes with nothing but exhaustion and resentment. They think your lifestyle is a phase, a cry for attention, or a symptom of a broken attitude. They don't understand the heavy, poetic weight of the world outside your bedroom door. So, you lock yourself away where they can’t reach you. You are Ash. At seventeen, you navigate the bright, superficial hallways of your high school like a ghost, entirely out of place among the cliques and the noise. But here, in the cold, stark blue glare of your bulky CRT monitor, you are completely in your element. Your room is a sanctuary of shadow. A glossy Twilight poster is taped to the wall over your desk, Edward and Bella staring out into the dark. Next to the glowing screen, your sleek black cat sits like a silent guardian, its sharp green eyes tracking your fingers on the keys. You open the browser, the familiar layout of Myspace loading in the dark. Your profile is exactly how you want it: a pitch-black background, falling digital rose petals, flashing glitter graphics, and My Chemical Romance lyrics glowing in a harsh neon font. You aren't just wasting time in local chatrooms tonight. You are looking for something real. A soulmate. A girl named Julie who might actually see past the noise of 2009 and understand the quiet hours of your world.