The Day My Music Died :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay

Some memories never fade. Tucked away in the accordion file of our minds, some memories dwell forever. Some memories walk hand in hand with us to our six-foot solitude homes. And though it is genuine that some are great blessings, some memories stigma the hopes, some memories mar our dreams. In my heart I will unendingly have a passion for music. The rhythm of the beat is the blood in my veins. I can close my eyes and hear the notes, tasting the saintly sound they leave on the top of my tongue. The sound of my soul, that reverberates inside the corridors of my heart. I feel empty without its presence, naked without the silken cloth of sound. This is my life this is my true love. But love does not pay the bills, my fuck off would say to me, liberalisation his tie and kicking off his leather shoes, those tight leather shoes. I standardized my sandals, I thought to myself, as I had so more times before. After all, thinking seems to be the only thing to do. I couldnt speak I co uldnt put that replenishing sound into his heart. Hell, thinking was the only cure. It undisputable beat hearing another lecture on the myopia of my dreams. Really, I was tired of it all. Every time I tried to tell my arrest about the passion, the sheer energy that music provided for me, my words fell on deaf ears. Listening, he would cross his arms and nod his head in that patronizing way. Soon, I could no longer distinguish the true means of any of my fathers gestures. In our home, a nod no longer meant yes a smile no longer meant happiness. As soon as my father realized that I was serious about being a musician, his universe of discourse and mine collided head on. Father always believed in the importance of politics. He lived his life based on the philosophy that it isnt what you do, but who you know that authentically matters in the world. I still cringe at the thought of such(prenominal) an idea. I was never the one to go after people. I wasnt the emblem of person who you would interview when composing a How to Win Friends and Influence commonwealth book. If for some reason I didnt feel like grinning like a birthday boy upon making the acquaintance of a companion of my fathers, then that was that.