Music has always been my way of grounding myself, a constant in the chaos where I find clarity and calm when everything else is falling apart. I put on my lilac colored headphones. They are adorned with the loveliest stickers of cute strawberries and cake, the cutest piece of armor that a warrior can wear. Music is the greatest escape, how easily the calmest tunes can put my mind to ease, how it drowns out the sounds of unbearable noise and the bottling anger. Just tune it out. But I can’t keep running away like this, can I? I couldn't just keep sleeping in the same bed with the embodiment of anger and sadness, only for me to use music like a key to lock them back in. I needed to find another key or even a hammer to break that box.

I saved enough money to buy a guitar, because I thought it would make me look cooler. I am no music genius, I am just a kid chasing an incomplete dream. The first time I plucked my first string, my first chord, it felt like my fingers would snap and tear, was this really worth the struggle? That electric guitar, black as my hair and eyes, paired with pink stickers matching my personality. It sat there on display wondering what its purpose was. Why did you spend hundreds of dollars on me, should I just go back in the box?

It was a rough day, I opened the door, damp with tears yet not enough to drip. I walked in the room with the unsettling anger and frustration of my thoughts, yet I can't release it. I didn't know what to do with it, I wanted to just tune it out with my headphones but my hand reached for my guitar instead. As I turned the volume up, then the tune, I strummed my first chord. It was a mess, my hands were struggling to press the right strings, but I kept strumming. Strumming as if I couldn’t hear anything else, but the chords. Keep strumming, Keep strumming, faster, quicker, slower, clearer, calmer. Until it snapped as if a lock pick had opened a box bursting at the seams. The tears began to trickle down as I continued to strum each chord, I realized I was crying, all I focused on was the music. How each chord became sadder, angrier, then calmer. Little did I know, I had found my way of portraying it all, a Melody filled with a swirl of emotions.

Here I am now in the present with the same guitar with strings soon to rust, needing to be replaced. Yet she doesn’t sit on her display anymore collecting dust. I use my guitar to speak my mind. If I can't use words to express my emotions, why not do it through music? I had found my way of showing my bottled emotion, with the music I make and the strings I strum. Whether it's a sad song or an angry beat, even a happy melody. Just remember this, whenever you feel down don't just keep it in, express it before it breaks you. Music is my comfort, listening to it regulates my emotions, but playing music expresses the rest, like a loudspeaker, a blank script, and an open mic.

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