Someone once said to me that I shouldn’t expect them to do things they do for me just because I do it for them. Someone once said to me to go complain about how my life sucks to someone else. Someone once said to me they couldn’t love me like I loved them. Although I did answer these to an extent, I never truly answered them directly.
There were many times where I was told to clean, and barely got anything done because I was too busy pretending I was Cinderella - singing around my house. Although I was far from a servant, I realized just how much music impacted my life. I guess this example is a little silly, but in future, music became something much more to me than just a hobby.
Growing up, my parents never grew tired of hearing, “Maxine is so sweet. She’s so quiet,” during parent-teacher conferences. Little did I know, being quiet wasn’t always a good thing. And most of the time, people never saw it as sweet. It became peoples’ excuse to walk all over me. And anytime I was actually involved in any sort of confrontation where I actually spoke out, I was labeled “a bitch” – I know – that escalated quickly. So, I resorted to writing.
I’ve always been a writer, even before I started playing music. To be honest, I’m not even sure the right side of my brain exists – that’s how much I rely on my creativity. Anything but English is a danger zone to me…those areas are suffocating in an abundance of caution tape. Anyway, I spent a majority of my 4th grade year reading a poem book and then writing my own poems. I wrote many stories in my spare time, and many awful, awful song lyrics, but I’d like to think, and so does my family (unless they are lying to me), that I’ve gotten better.
I’ve learned through music how to believe in myself and how to respond back to people. Music has helped me cope more than anything. There is a place everyone goes to in their mind – a place of comfort – an escape. As cliché as that is, everyone has one. Sometimes, I’ll sit in my room for a good twenty minutes with my eyes closed and my head rested against my guitar, just strumming chords; it brings me to a place of serenity. In this place, I can answer the hateful and hurtful things people tell/have told me. I can erase all toxins and negativity from my life. It’s a place where I feel I can breathe.
So, instead of lashing out on these people or taking their words to heart, I spew my emotions into a vortex of chords and lyrics. Why not make something so ugly, so beautiful? I hated everything about myself in high school because I listened to everyone else – I let so many people define me because I didn’t know who I was. Finally, I have found it. Music is home. Music is my heart. Music is my identity. It is every part and piece of who I am. Music makes me feel like I’m worth something. That’s all I could ever ask for.
