A composer was asked to write a new song, but he was having a hard time getting it right. Gradually, he began to suffer from a near-neurotic condition and became bothered by the sounds around him—for example, construction noise and the sound of the television.
His symptoms worsened to the point where even the sound of his wife walking in her slippers and the humming of the refrigerator started to annoy him. When he began to find even his worried wife's voice unpleasant, she lost patience with him and left.
To help the man, who was at his absolute psychological limit, a friend introduced him to a place with no sound whatsoever. It was an anechoic space surrounded by special walls that absorbed all sound. Even if you shouted, played the piano, or ran around, no sound was made at all.
Satisfied with the soundless space, he started composing, but then he heard a sound coming from somewhere. "Why?" the man wondered, searching for the source of the noise. He finally realized where it was coming from.
He had plunged a pen into his own heart and was dead. His face wore a truly satisfied expression.