Becca F

For most of my life, music has been the most prominent aspect of it. The minute my parents realized I was old enough to take up a hobby, they sat me in front of the piano and told me to play. I was only five years old and had absolutely no idea what would come of that “simple” hobby. Even now, 18 years old in a 15 by 15 foot dorm room, I still have a keyboard under my dusty, lofted bed and a guitar sitting right next to it waiting to be played when I need to relax.

After you play an instrument for 13 years, the keys become embedded in you and you find any and all excuses to play. At least that’s how it is for me. Junior year of high school I rallied some of my fellow band kid friends and we formed a rock band. We called it Sonophobia; it was named after the fear of loud noises (clever, I know). We played all kinds of songs, from Paramore to Linkin Park and every time the drummer would hit her sticks and the cues began, I felt free. I was the lead singer of the band, so I guess instead of playing the keys or the guitar, I played my vocal chords.

It was the most fun I have ever had musically. Getting to experience something I have loved my whole life with others who love it just as much as me was an experience I will never forget. I used to take my instruments for granted, thinking, “why did my parents force me to do something so time consuming?” However, the second all of our abilities morphed together, I have never felt so grateful to be so attached to music.

It runs through my veins, soothing me when I’m sad or angry. I can pick up an instrument and write a song to express my emotions. Or just listen to a playlist full of all my favorite compositions created carefully by my favorite composers that I have the ability to learn.

Music. Something so simple yet so powerful. Something I have always and will always appreciate. Something I have the privilege of getting to experience firsthand.