This is an
essay I wrote at a totally inproper time in school today, about
my brain and about music.
The Symphony Imperfect
My
life is made of faintly twisted facts. My hair is not blonde, but
brown; not curly but bushy. My eyes are not green or blue, but
mixed with brown and gold. I'm not perfect. I am formed from
imperfection. Crooked thumbs and fingers. No features that can,
in any sense, be called 'beautiful'. And something so
off, so destroyed, in my mind. It lets me understand the the
selfs behind the emotions, and hinders my reasoning and ability
to describe them. It has released a wild stream of colour and
light and sound, and it has blocked off something else. I
don't know what it is, yet. Whatever it my be, it scares me.
My mind in vunerable and shadowed. The harshness of this new
music overwhelms me. My Chemical Romance exposses the dark in
life. Reliant K is strangly lacking in happy themes. Hawk Nelson,
for its glory, has a horribly acurate view of the world. Three
Days Grace and Green Day are just utter panic. Blindness. Really,
they frighten me. So incredible that a tune can change every
feeling a person posseses. I havve learned that almost every song
wants you to be a little bit in chaos. A bit lost. A bit needy.
So, you listen. And you listen because only sounds and songs can
fill this need. It's a trap. and you fall deliciously into
it. Because you love it.
