The Day the Music Died
I was never a social person, like my father while my mom and older sister were going to parties every weekend. My father and I were two peas in a pod. We connected through our mutual understanding of art and music. My dad, a collector of classics and the modern knew all I could have hoped to about music. He knew the basics. But up until 5th grade I did not care for music, but more for friends. I begged for them friends but never got any real ones. I waited up until 8th grade when I heard the few magical words of Yellow Card. From that day on, I turned my back on all the other popular songs and went out searching for better singers, better writers, and better musicians. From the soundtracks to the music videos, I started collecting my real friends. Each song was a friend. A bitter one or a lovely one a happy one or a depressing one. One by one, it built up on my 30 GB i-pod given to me by my mother. When I reached grade 9, I had a small collection. There weren’t many people like me in my class so I thought was alone, making a whole new world that only I really understood. When people were out during the weekends, I was home downloading or writing new songs. When we had to do our projects at school, I knew that mine would be all about my music. As time went by, I realized that music wasn’t only my best friend but also my life. Every night when I prayed, I asked for a better world and that I would give up everything. I said as long as I have my music, I am perfect and the rest can all be given away. So when the music died, I guess my life died. My hopes and dreams were all perished. I might be over exaggerating, I don’t know. But if your life basically revolved around something and it was all gone without a warning, you might be in the same state that I am. So I am here to convince you, don’t only believe in only one thing, because if it gets lost, you would not want to be where I am. Because the day that the music got erased, so did all my friends and life. Leaving me empty and alone, once again begging. But not for friends this time, more for a hope, maybe it will come in books, or poems, or music as it did for me once before.
