The Start of Something Unexpected
Care To Be Selectively Mute
It’s strange how moments of connection can sneak up on you when you least expect them. I still remember that day in the theater so vividly. I wasn’t looking for company, much less a meaningful interaction. In fact, I had spent so much time that day convincing myself that silence and solitude were the safest paths forward. It wasn’t just a fleeting mood—it was almost a philosophy I’d adopted. I’d been diving deep into articles about selective mutism, intrigued by the idea of intentionally curating silence as a form of control, of self-preservation.
To complement my newfound appreciation for quiet, I researched noise-canceling headphones. I had stumbled upon Bang and Olufsen, their sleek design alluring in a minimalist way, but when I tested their performance against Bose QuietComfort, it became clear which would win. Bose had the edge with Active Noise Cancellation, and if I was going to commit to the world of selective mutism, I wanted the best in capabilities, not just style. The hum of the outside world could be filtered out with the flick of a switch, and with it, the need to explain myself.
But arriving to that dead silence, the dimly lit theater empty except for the faint hum of an unseen air vent, I quickly felt the weight of my decision. At first, the quiet seemed inviting—a cocoon of solitude where I could fold in on myself, unbothered by the demands of the outside world. But as I sank into my seat, the silence began to shift, and I felt her presence.
That big, bubbly, outgoing girl who still lived somewhere inside me—the one I had voted to lock away for the sake of comfort and control—was not taking her imprisonment lightly. She fidgeted within me, whispering reminders of how much she loved chatter and noise, the way a shared laugh could ripple through a room, uniting strangers. Her protests were subtle at first, easy to ignore. But as the minutes ticked by, I felt increasingly uncomfortable, like I was betraying some unspoken promise to her.
Hi, I’m Carolyn
To understand me, it’s important to know that I live with a constant tension between my internal struggles and my external actions. On the surface, I might seem reserved, but that quiet exterior often masks a mind preoccupied with doubt, anxiety, and a persistent fear of rejection. I’ve spent a lot of time grappling with how these feelings influence my behavior, often retreating into solitude as a form of self-preservation.
At the same time, my actions reveal a contradiction in my psychological profile. While fear urges me to avoid connection, my core instincts push me toward it. I’m resilient, driven by a deep need for companionship and a belief that meaningful interactions are worth the risk. Even in moments when I feel trapped by my anxiety, there’s a part of me that refuses to be defined by it. That’s who I am—a person shaped by struggle but unwilling to give up on the possibility of connection, growth, and openness.
This is how I met Mason!
And just like that, she blurted out to the man walking to his seat in the row behind me, “I’m so happy you’re here!” The words spilled out, unexpected and unplanned, breaking the quiet tension of the nearly empty theater. The man paused mid-step, looking slightly taken aback. “Really?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
She twisted in her seat to face him, her smile wry but warm. “Yes. I hate being the only one in a theater. But, I mean, it’s Wednesday at 9:00 PM—what do I expect?”
He chuckled as he found his seat directly behind hers. “Same here. I love seeing movies at random times, spur of the moment, but yeah… it’s usually just me in the audience.”
And just like that, the invisible wall between strangers disappeared. Before we knew it, we were swapping stories about movies we’d seen in the past, the quiet space around us filling with laughter and easy conversation. It didn’t take long to realize we had more in common than just our habit of watching movies at odd hours. We both shared an affinity for horror and suspense—the kind of films that haunt your mind long after the credits roll.
“It’s no coincidence we’re both here for The Heretic,” she said at one point, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. And honestly, I couldn’t help but agree. This meeting felt less like chance and more like the kind of twist you’d find in one of our favorite films.
The previews began to play, their booming sound filling the theater and making it impossible to hear each other without yelling and disturbing the handful of people scattered around. But Mason wasn’t ready to let the conversation end. He leaned forward, squatting down behind my seat, close enough for us to keep talking without raising our voices.
We continued to bond in hushed tones, sharing more about ourselves. That’s when we discovered something that made the encounter feel even more serendipitous: we went to the same university. He was a finance major, and I was studying kinesiology. We couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence, marveling at how we’d never crossed paths before this moment.
The connection felt effortless, like it was meant to happen. Before the movie started, we exchanged university emails—a small but meaningful gesture of wanting to keep this connection alive beyond the walls of the theater. Then, in an unexpected but welcome move, Mason stood, walked over, and settled into the seat next to me. “Might as well enjoy the movie together,” he said with a grin, and I couldn’t help but smile.
For the first time in a long time, the theater didn’t feel like a refuge of solitude. It felt alive, filled with the kind of energy that only comes from shared experiences. And as the lights dimmed and the film began, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something special.
Respecting the Balance: A Battle Within
Imagine a criminal on death row—the day finally arrives, and they savor their final meal with a bittersweet resignation. That’s what my big, bubbly girl felt like the night I met Mason. She got to have one last connection, one last moment of life before the inevitable verdict came down. Every part of me that had been hurt, betrayed, and bruised stood on the jury and unanimously found her guilty of every crime.
I thought back to that night in Montreal, sitting alone at the bar in my hotel, the icy chill of isolation numbed only slightly by the warmth of a whiskey sour. I hadn’t planned on talking to anyone, but it was her—my bubbly, reckless girl—who took over when the man celebrating a bachelor party next door approached me.
“Hey, are you alone?” he asked, leaning in with a grin. “My boss threw a bachelor party, and my coworker and I are just having fun. We’ve got a booth at a nightclub later—you should join us!”
Everything in me screamed no. Every quiet, timid part of me, every cautious instinct, wanted to decline, to finish my drink, and retreat to my room. But she, so eager to escape the dull solitude, exclaimed with a wide grin, “Lead the way!”
And that’s how I ended up in the boss’s hotel room later that night, drunk off expensive champagne I didn’t even like, saying no but freezing when it mattered most. My mind, detached and disoriented, trusted in the false promise that it would all be over quickly. “Thank God alcohol is a depressant,” I thought bitterly as I showered afterward, my brain already beginning its cruel trick of erasing the memory to protect me—or maybe just to protect her.
I kissed the man goodbye as if that could make it less wrong, less violating, and stepped into the elevator. That’s when my internal dialogue began its assault, a vicious attack on the bubbly parts of me. It was World War III in my head, the quiet, timid parts raging at her reckless defiance, while she scrambled to write a new narrative that could justify her existence for another day.
“I’m the only reason you ever meet anyone,” she argued, her voice defiant. “Tonight didn’t go as planned, sure, but don’t act like you don’t remember all the fun we’ve had because of me. Remember Eric? The nice gentleman on the plane? He PayPaled us money for a passport right there in row 7 because we made his boring business trip to Denver feel like a party. Without me, we wouldn’t even have a passport today. I’m the reason for that. Me not knowing a stranger is why we’ve had so many adventures.”
“And what about tonight?” the timid parts of me shot back, their voice quieter but no less sharp. “You’re so quick to point out the good moments, but what about the bad ones? What about when your impulsiveness gets us into situations we can’t control? When I’m left to clean up the mess you’ve made?”
There was a pause, a shaky breath. “Sure, Eric on the plane was nice, and yes, we got a passport out of it. But how many times have you gambled with our safety, our well-being? How many times have you ignored the voice in me that begged you to stop, to say no, to just be still? You don’t get to cherry-pick the highlights and sweep the rest under the rug like it doesn’t matter.”
Another pause, this one heavier, laden with the weight of everything unsaid. “I get it. You think you’re the fun one, the brave one, the one who makes life interesting. And maybe you are. But at what cost? You keep throwing us into the fire, and I’m the one who has to feel the burn afterward. You can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
I rode the elevator back to my room, exhausted—not just physically, but mentally. The war in my mind raged on, louder than ever, and I knew neither side would win tonight. They never did.
“Remember, there is no ‘she’ and ‘you’. You are one. Respect the balance. And you won’t have any more inconveniences.” The Substance
Sister Paxton
Three minutes into the movie, Mason leaned in, pointed at the screen, and whispered, “I love characters like Sister Paxton. She’s smarter than she’s letting on! I just know it—you’ll see!”
I raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at his confidence. It felt like an odd moment to make that call, considering the scene unfolding on screen. Sister Paxton was mid-monologue, questioning the truths we blindly accept because of marketing. Her example? Magnum condoms, which, according to her, were no bigger than regular ones. The audience chuckled, but Mason leaned in further, completely convinced of her depth.
And then, as if things couldn’t get stranger, she launched into a story about how she discovered God was real and that humans have souls—all from watching a pornographic film. The revelation came when the neighbor in the next room yelled off-screen, “We can hear you!” The absurdity of it made the theater erupt in laughter, but Mason’s grin didn’t waver.
I agreed with Mason on the inside because, like me, Sister Paxton was misunderstood. Her humor and unique perspective on the world often went unnoticed or dismissed by those around her. But beneath her lighthearted and chaotic exterior was a sharp, resourceful spirit—someone who observed keenly and acted decisively when it truly mattered.
In her, I saw a reflection of myself. I was voted Most Unforgettable in high school for the same reason people misunderstood me. My classmates often assumed I was foolish because of the seemingly absurd connections I made between unrelated topics. They laughed at what they thought was nonsense, but to me, those connections were anything but random. They revealed a unique way of thinking—creative, unconventional, and deeply intuitive. Like Sister Paxton, I’ve always had a knack for finding meaning where others see chaos, even if it’s hidden behind humor or delivered in ways people don’t immediately take seriously.
Mason’s confidence in her wasn’t misplaced; I understood why he saw her potential. People like Sister Paxton—and maybe people like me—are often underestimated, but there’s a depth to us that becomes undeniable when given the chance to shine. Beneath the charm and eccentricity lies the ability to see the world differently, to act decisively, and to challenge others to look beyond what’s obvious.
The bubbly girl in me whispered, and I could feel her crying. It was this misunderstanding of her personality that the timid parts clung to as their argument for silencing her. “No more embarrassment,” they thought. “No more people underestimating us. Just… no more.” They saw her openness, her exuberance, as a liability—a source of pain, rejection, and shame. And so they advocated for her silence, for retreating into the safety of the quiet.
But in that moment, she wasn’t silent. Similar to a prisoner on death row savoring a final meal, she found solace in the presence of someone who saw her. Mason. Someone who, without hesitation or doubt, would bet on her three minutes into a movie. Someone who, in an odd but affirming way, chose to sit next to her in a dimly lit theater, breaking through the invisible walls I’d built around myself.
In his small, simple act, there was something profound—a reminder to the bubbly girl that she wasn’t a mistake. That maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the problem.
“I’m so happy you’re here” - bubbly girl
Arguments for a New Reality
Opening Arguements:
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Committee,
The defense has presented compelling evidence that on the afternoon of November 13, Carolyn was in a state of deep pain, feeling isolated, and actively considering a life marked by silence. She spent hours researching selective mutism as a means of coping, even contemplating a purchase of high-end noise-canceling headphones, intending to withdraw from the world around her. She was weighed down by feelings of unworthiness, consumed by thoughts of retreating into silence to escape the burden of feeling unloved.
But I am here to argue that this is not the complete story.
Despite her struggles, the moment Carolyn found herself in the solitude of that theater, she did not retreat into silence or isolation. When Mason entered and sat close enough to break that barrier, Carolyn chose not to withdraw but instead reached out for connection. The pain that had once convinced her to seek silence transformed, in that pivotal moment, into a desire for warmth, companionship, and shared experience.
Here is the evidence:
Carolyn’s Choice to Speak – Despite hours spent planning a life of silence, Carolyn looked up, saw Mason, and welcomed him with open words: “I’m so happy you’re here!” This statement—expressed openly to a stranger—is powerful evidence of her underlying resilience and her desire for human connection, even when it seems buried beneath pain.
The Spontaneous Invitation to Share – Carolyn’s willingness to reach out speaks volumes. In the face of hurt and doubt, she chose to embrace vulnerability, opening herself to a shared moment. Her decision to reach out shows that, despite any fleeting desire to retreat, connection still holds a vital place in her heart.
The Impact of Shared Experience – Carolyn’s time with Mason didn’t just fill an empty seat; it filled a need for human connection, one that silence and withdrawal could never satisfy. This connection served as a reminder that meaningful bonds and moments of joy are within reach, even during periods of inner turmoil.
In conclusion, while the evidence may show a Carolyn burdened by doubt and pain, her actions reveal something stronger—a fundamental inclination toward connection, resilience, and openness. The defense may argue that Carolyn should remain withdrawn, trapped in a life marked by anxiety and isolation, but I submit to you that her actions in that theater reveal a spirit unwilling to be defined by fear. Instead, she reached out, found companionship, and, in doing so, affirmed her capacity for a life filled with connection and courage.
Exhibit A: Message from Mason to Carolyn Following Their Movie Encounter
Date: Wednesday, November 13, 11:18 PM
Sender: Mason
Recipient: Carolyn
Message Content:
“Hey, Carolyn, it was so cool meeting you! That was super fun, great movie. Let me know when you want to study in the library or when there’s a movie you want to see. I’ll keep my eye out for anything interesting coming out in the next few months.
Interpretation of Exhibit A:
This message from Mason to Carolyn, sent shortly after their shared movie experience, reinforces the significance of their connection and provides key insights into Carolyn’s response to reaching out:
Affirmation of Connection
Mason’s words—“it was so cool meeting you” and “that was super fun”—affirm that the connection Carolyn sought was not only welcomed but reciprocated. He openly acknowledges the positive impact of their interaction, validating Carolyn’s choice to reach out rather than retreat.
Invitation to Build on the Connection
Mason’s offer to study together or see another movie demonstrates his genuine interest in continuing their connection. His willingness to plan future meetups further emphasizes that Carolyn’s openness was met with warmth and enthusiasm, countering any narrative that silence or withdrawal would have been a safer or better choice.
Evidence of Shared Intent
Mason’s message includes a promise to “keep an eye out” for upcoming opportunities to connect, reinforcing that the relationship Carolyn initiated has potential for growth and shared experiences. This anticipation of future encounters provides evidence that Carolyn’s decision to reach out was a step toward building meaningful, lasting connections.
Conclusion:
Exhibit A serves as clear evidence that Carolyn’s act of openness created a mutual, positive connection. Far from supporting a life of isolation, this exchange reveals her capacity to form genuine bonds and the positive impact that stepping outside of her comfort zone can have. The defense may argue for a life of silence and withdrawal, but Mason’s message illustrates a reality where connection, joy, and shared moments are within Carolyn’s reach.
Exhibit B: The Character of Sister Paxton and Its Reflection of Carolyn’s True Nature
The Defense’s Argument:
The defense claims that Carolyn’s docile and sometimes ditzy nature leaves her vulnerable to being misunderstood or taken advantage of, leading to a recommendation for selective mutism and isolation as a form of self-protection. They argue that Carolyn’s unique perspective, sense of humor, and almost childlike innocence have brought her pain and that retreating into silence would shield her from further hurt.
Counter-Argument and Introduction of Exhibit B: Sister Paxton
I present to you Exhibit B: Sister Paxton, a character whom Mason admired deeply in the film Heretic—a character whose qualities align closely with those of Carolyn. Mason’s admiration for Sister Paxton is no coincidence; it reflects his appreciation for the very traits that make Carolyn unique.
Analysis of Sister Paxton’s Traits:
Quiet Strength and Observational Skills
Sister Paxton, though appearing docile and unassuming, possessed a sharp observational skill and an inner strength that allowed her to see beyond the surface. Mr. Reed, the antagonist, misjudged her because of her seemingly gentle nature. Yet, Sister Paxton used her perceived “innocence” to her advantage, outwitting Mr. Reed at a crucial moment. Similarly, Carolyn possesses a quiet strength masked by her approachable, gentle demeanor, which often leads others to underestimate her.
Misjudged, Yet Resourceful
Like Carolyn, Sister Paxton was misunderstood. Her humor and unique view of the world went unnoticed by those around her. But beneath her lighthearted exterior was a resourceful spirit, one that observed keenly and acted decisively when the time was right. Carolyn, too, is capable of reading situations deeply, even if her wit and charm are not always immediately recognized. She has a resilience and resourcefulness that reveal themselves when she’s faced with challenges.
The Power of Authentic Innocence
Sister Paxton’s innocence was not a weakness but a strength. Her childlike nature was not naive; it was genuine and disarming, allowing her to surprise others with her inner resolve. This mirrors Carolyn’s own innocence—a quality that may make her vulnerable to misjudgment but also endows her with an authenticity that is rare and valuable. Her openness, far from a disadvantage, has the power to disarm and connect her with others, as it did with Mason.
Conclusion: Why Sister Paxton Matters
The fact that Mason loved and rooted for Sister Paxton is no mere coincidence. His admiration for her shows that he sees and values the same qualities in Carolyn. The defense may argue that these traits should be hidden or silenced, but Mason’s support for Sister Paxton proves that there are people who not only appreciate but celebrate Carolyn’s unique strengths. Her docile nature, wit, and innocence are not weaknesses; they are qualities that bring warmth, perspective, and connection to those around her.
Exhibit B illustrates that Carolyn’s personality is not a liability but a strength. Just as Sister Paxton’s quiet resilience triumphed, Carolyn’s true self deserves to be expressed, appreciated, and shared—not hidden away.
Counter-Argument Presentation: Why Silence is Still the Best Option
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Committee,
The opposition has argued compellingly for Carolyn’s capacity for connection, courage, and resilience, using her encounter with Mason, her actions in the theater, and the character of Sister Paxton as evidence. But I am here to argue that this view, while inspiring, overlooks the critical vulnerabilities and risks inherent in Carolyn’s unique personality.
The defense is not denying Carolyn’s potential for connection or her inner strength. Instead, we argue that her choice to retreat into selective mutism, silence, and self-protection is not an act of weakness—it is a recognition of her limits and a way to preserve her emotional well-being.
Here is the counter-evidence:
Exhibit A: The Cost of Connection
While the opposition highlights Carolyn’s ability to connect with Mason as a moment of triumph, they fail to address the emotional toll that vulnerability often takes on her. Carolyn’s bubbly and open nature has repeatedly led to misunderstanding, judgment, and, at times, trauma.
Take, for example, her experience as “Most Unforgettable” in high school. While the title may sound positive, it carried with it a painful reality: her classmates often thought her foolish, laughing at the seemingly absurd connections she made between unrelated topics. Carolyn’s humor and creativity were misunderstood, leaving her feeling dismissed and undervalued. This repeated pattern of being underestimated created a cycle of hurt that silence seeks to break.
Mason may have been kind and affirming, but one interaction does not erase a history of painful experiences. The opposition celebrates this single moment without accounting for the emotional cost of the risks Carolyn takes to reach it. Silence offers her a way to mitigate those risks, creating a buffer against further misunderstanding or rejection.
Exhibit B: The Contradictions in Sister Paxton’s Story
The opposition draws parallels between Carolyn and Sister Paxton, but there is a key element of Sister Paxton’s story that cannot be ignored: in the end, Sister Paxton died.
Mr. Reed underestimated her, and the viewers eventually learned that Sister Paxton had been on to him all along. Her observations and awareness were sharp, and her seemingly docile and innocent nature masked a deeper understanding of the situation. However, Sister Paxton’s failure to act—to assert herself, to break free from the character she was playing—ultimately led to her demise.
She continued to play the role of the silly, affirming, and naive figure, thinking it would protect her. But it didn’t. Her unwillingness to step outside of that persona, to take decisive action, allowed Mr. Reed to triumph over her.
Similarly, Carolyn’s bubbly personality—her openness and willingness to connect—is a double-edged sword. It makes her memorable, even lovable, but it also makes her vulnerable. Like Sister Paxton, Carolyn risks being seen only as her surface qualities, leaving her unprepared to defend herself when faced with danger or harm.
The opposition may see Sister Paxton as a reflection of Carolyn’s strengths, but her story is a cautionary tale. Observing and understanding the situation is not enough if action is never taken. For Carolyn, continuing to rely on her bubbly persona without setting boundaries or asserting herself will only expose her to the same risks that ultimately claimed Sister Paxton’s life.
Exhibit C: The Montreal Incident as Carolyn’s Sister Paxton Moment
The opposition highlights Carolyn’s ability to connect and her willingness to trust as strengths, but I present to you her experience in Montreal as a cautionary tale. This moment in Carolyn’s life mirrors Sister Paxton’s ultimate fate, showing the dangers of leaning too far into traits like openness and naivety without setting boundaries or taking decisive action.
In Montreal, Carolyn knew. She noticed everything throughout the night—the way the man looked at her, the fact that it was a bachelor party, the undertones of his motives. Just as Sister Paxton was keenly aware of Mr. Reed’s manipulations, Carolyn was not blind to the subtext of her situation. She understood the risks but chose to lean into her qualities of naivety, charm, and playfulness.
When he asked, “Do you want to see what the presidential suite looks like in a place like this?” she could have gone up to her room and ended the night. She could have made the decisive choice to remove herself from a potentially harmful situation. Instead, she played one last game of the unsuspecting girl and said yes.
This mirrors Sister Paxton’s fatal choice. Sister Paxton noticed Mr. Reed’s motives and the danger they posed, but she continued to play the role of the silly, affirming, naive character, believing it would protect her or allow her to maintain control. In the end, that role failed her, leading to her death.
In Montreal, Carolyn’s decision to continue playing along led to a deeply traumatic experience. Much like Sister Paxton, Carolyn leaned into the qualities that make her so charming and approachable but, in doing so, left herself vulnerable. The bubbly, trusting side of her personality that draws people in also creates situations where her boundaries are crossed, leaving her powerless to act.
Conclusion: The Danger of Leaning Into Naivety
Carolyn’s experience in Montreal was her Sister Paxton moment. She noticed the signs, understood the dynamics, and yet allowed herself to continue down a dangerous path. Like Sister Paxton, she thought playing the role of the trusting, unsuspecting girl would shield her from harm, but it didn’t.
This story underscores the need for Carolyn to reevaluate the way she navigates the world. Her openness and willingness to connect are beautiful traits, but they also expose her to harm when not tempered by decisive action and clear boundaries. Silence and retreat, while not permanent solutions, offer her a safer path forward as she works to rebuild and strengthen her ability to balance connection with self-preservation.
Until Carolyn can learn to act decisively and protect herself, leaning into her naivety and bubbly qualities will continue to put her at risk. Montreal serves as a clear example of why boundaries are not just important—they are essential for her emotional and physical safety.
The Verdict: Care To Be a Writer
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Committee,
After careful deliberation, this court has reached a decision. Carolyn’s story is not one of defeat or unchecked triumph, but of transformation. The evidence presented—the moments of connection, the moments of pain, the battles waged within her—has led us to one undeniable conclusion: Carolyn’s sentence is to become a writer.
This is not a punishment, nor a simple solution. It is a sentence that reflects her complexity, her contradictions, and her capacity for growth. Writing is both her freedom and her discipline—a way to honor the bubbly girl who craves connection and the timid parts that demand caution.
Through writing, Carolyn will face the weight of her past. She will revisit the laughter and pain of being “Most Unforgettable.” She will relive the heartbreak of Montreal, the regret of saying yes when she should have said no. She will revisit the theater with Mason, where connection reminded her of the warmth she cannot live without. Writing will not let her forget, but it will give her a place to transform those memories into something meaningful, something lasting.
This sentence ensures that Carolyn’s voice will not be silenced. Her openness, her wit, her ability to see connections others might miss—all of these will find a home in her words. But writing will also teach her to set boundaries. She can control what she shares, how she shares it, and with whom. Unlike in life, where the bubbly girl sometimes acted impulsively, writing will allow Carolyn to weigh her words, to make decisions with intention and care.
Her sentence to become a writer acknowledges that Carolyn’s true strength lies in her ability to observe and reflect. Like Sister Paxton, she notices what others miss. But unlike Sister Paxton, who never acted on her awareness, Carolyn will. Through her writing, she will reclaim her power, turning vulnerability into strength, fear into resilience, and misunderstanding into connection.
This sentence does not force Carolyn to choose between silence and openness. Instead, it gives her a path to integrate both. Writing is her bridge—between her past and her future, between her bubbly girl and her cautious self, between fear and courage.
The court hereby sentences Carolyn to a life of writing—a life where her voice, her story, and her truth will not be forgotten.
Sentence delivered. Court adjourned.