Music, as defined by Webster's Dictionary: vocal or instrumental sounds combined in such a way as to produce beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion. I’m notorious for being a hip-hop head: an individual deeply entrenched in the roots of sounds and lyrics that first became prominent through the influence of African-Americans during the late 1980s.

Over the years, numerous records have gained my eternal praise for being innovative yet seductive, different yet satisfying. Ranging from Jay-Z's debut release, "Reasonable Doubt", to the latest Chief Keef album, "Dedication", I’ve discovered a sort of comfort in listening to hip-hop, a feeling in which other genres have repeatedly failed to replicate. In fact, I have a deteriorated poster of Tupac Shakur and Snoop Dogg pinned doggedly to the wall of my dorm room.

In 2016, my entire perspective on music altered drastically. I no longer receive the same pleasure from listening to "Illmatic". Okay, that may be an over-exaggeration, but you get the point. Some of my old favorite artists have fallen innocently to the wayside.

I have discovered the cause of my hip hop disconnection: I’m in love. In love? With whom?

This is not one of those sappy romance monologues that are often portrayed in daytime drama programs. Instead, a particular album has acquired my heart. A smooth blend of jazz, gospel, and traditional hip-hop that invokes so much spirit that even an atheist cannot resist dancing along.

I am, of course, describing "Coloring Book", the third mixtape self-released by Chance the Rapper. I remember the first time I ever listened to Chance the Rapper. It was sometime in early 2014, probably around January, when my brother Bernie introduced me to "Acid Rap". Despite its title, I thoroughly enjoyed the tape while sober, with my favorite track being "Acid Rain".

Two years later, in May 2016, rumors speculated anticipating the release of Chance's third mixtape. When would it arrive? Under what title? These questions lingered in the hip-hop atmosphere like unclaimed flatulence.

Early on May 6th, hours after the end of my 17th birthday, I received a text message from Bernie. It was a screenshot of Chance's Instagram, an image of the new project's cover art captioned "May 13th".

Holy shit! Finally! Three years after "Acid Rap", Chance 3 is finally going to drop! I couldn’t contain the emotions. I responded to Bernie with excitement. Little did I know, that would be the last time I would ever interact with Bernie.

On May 9th, I came home from getting a haircut to discover my parents and brother Tim sobbing uncontrollably on the floor of my dad's office. The hysterical pouts of grief indicated that something disastrous had occurred.

Without reluctance, my father spewed out the shocking news. On the night of May 7th, Bernie passed away peacefully in his sleep at his apartment in Washington, D.C.

Why couldn't it be me? Bernie was more valuable to this world than me. People really looked up to him and depended on him as a model figure. Why must such a charitable, caring, and affectionate man pass at such a young age, with so much of his life ahead and his potential limitless?

Every day I ask myself these questions, vicariously imagining different scenarios in which more deserving candidates perish in Bernie's place. After sleepless nights of mourning, guilt entrenched family gatherings, and Bernie's transportation to Middletown for immediate burial, May 12th had arrived, and Chance was set to drop his third mixtape under no label: "Coloring Book".

I unenthusiastically gave "Coloring Book" an initial listen, feeling a need to pay tribute to my late brother. Those three or four days following Bernie's passing, my mind wasn’t straight and I couldn’t focus. "Coloring Book" exceeded expectations and completely altered my perception of music and life entirely.

From the moment "All We Got" played through my headphones, the undeniable rhythm of Chance the Rapper had been revived in my blood. The personal monologue of "Same Drugs", the childhood reminiscence behind "Summer Friends", the legendary collaboration featured in "No Problem", and the poetic closing track "Blessings", this album contains an uncanny presence of well-roundedness from start to finish, inviting listeners to experience Chance's struggles and triumphs by his side.

My life has been a roller coaster, and it would be difficult to properly connect with someone who has no idea where I am coming from. But during a period of emotional instability, Chance was there for me, to speak about promised lands where the soil is as soft as Momma's hands, and there's running water and endless fields of daffodils and chamomile.

He may not know who I am personally or where I come from or how we’re related, but I felt it necessary to put my thoughts out there. Instead of wasting away in the dread that life induces at times, you must keep dancing and smiling.

Like Dolly Parton says, “If you want the rainbow, you got to put up with the rain.”