Learning to Breathe Again
"Alright class, I want you all to write a five paragraph essay on how important it is to bring emotion when writing songs. This essay will be a great help to you when we begin our song meriting unit. The essay is due Monday. Have a great weekend!"
Mrs. Doorsen's words ring in my ears as I sit on my bed, staring at the blank white screen on my laptop. It only reads the title, and my name. I have to turn this blank screen into something worth reading. I look over to my desk and see the picture of Jade and I, at homecoming. that was the last school dance we went to together. I suddenly understand what Mrs. Doorsen was talking about when she gave the class this big lecture on how today's music lack emotion. She has a point in some ways. I remember when I was twelve, and I really started getting into music. I remember how angry I was, when I found out that my favorite song, which I thought was about the greatness of first loves, was written about a sandwich. I can't even remember the artist, but I remember getting so angry, I wrote an email to the poor guy, venting my feelings. He never responded to the email. I suddenly feel my fingers slam on the keys.
Emotion. One word, many different meanings. Some people think emotions, they think of the basics. Happy, sad, mad. That whole ordeal. When you get older and wiser, you think of how emotions affect other people. You think of love, pain, discomfort. I think that might be the problem with songs today. Some of them, just clearly lack emotion. A song has to have meaningful lyrics, to make it big in this world. Well known artist wouldn't write songs about the color yellow, or about their favorite blanket, and expect a hit. Sometimes, when I'm listening to music, I stop myself and try to figure out the hidden meanings. And do those meanings, actually mean something?
I rest my hands, not knowing how to start the next paragraph. I get the assignment, it's boring the crap out of me. The first paragraph is always easiest, but the middle is always more difficult. I rest my head on my pillow, and close my eyes...I'll get back to writing in a minute...
"Beck, what's your biggest dream?" Jade asks, as we sit in the back of my car. I feel her pull me closer, as if I'm going to drift away. I hope she knows that I'm not going anywhere. Not without her.
"I'm not sure. What's yours?" I ask. I have a lot of dreams. To become a well known actor, to go to acting school, that whole package.
"Too difficult to decide. I like the way things are going. Right here, right now." she says, as her eyes gaze at the stars. I watch her. I wish she didn't wear as much makeup as she does. She better know she looks better without it. She says it 'completes her look.' I've never understood the female mind. Even the one I've known my whole life.
I jolt awake, the memory haunting me like a ghost. I take my water bottle from my nightstand, hoping to get distracted. I hear the pouring down rain against my window. Even with all these distractions, I keep seeing her face. I thought I was getting better. I thought I was starting to move on.
Kiss that goodbye.
I feel my phone beep in my pocket. I let it go, and not answer. I'm no tin the mood to talk to anyone right now. Unless its Tori. She seems to really understand. She understands what it's like to loose someone, and to never get to hold them in your arms again. I manage to compose myself during school, but the second I'm in private, I let myself break down. Sometimes breaking down means looking at old pictures, and sometimes it means crying muffled into the pillow. I really need to stop that. It's been a month, and I think I need to let go. Maybe that's what I need...I think I need closure. Not a funeral, but something more personal...
I have an idea.
I tear out my notepad, and a pen, and begin writing a letter to Jade.