The music from my soul

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I put my pencil back down on my desk. Two more questions and I’d be done with my science test. Science tests were the only ones I ever wrote on. Or, as my music teacher would say, the only tests I ever composed on. Truth be told, I wasn’t interested in water molecules, I was into one of the few things that could change a person. I looked out the window for a second; let my brain relax a little. The sunlight streaming in, the birds tweeting, that’s what calms a person. That or in the case of my mother, a twenty thousand dollar therapy treatment. Yeah, it was my parents that drove me in frenzy. A frenzy that nearly killed me, till I found music. My dad was an alcoholic, and, disappointed with his life, hung himself. My mother never regained total peace, and spent all our money on therapy that didn’t even work. My life seemed so down that I went to where my dad hung himself. I stood there, getting ready to do the same thing he had done 2 years ago. Until I heard this music. I can’t explain how it sounded, but it just wanted me to cry away all my crap. I followed the music, and guess where it led me. To an orphanage. So I packed my bags that night, and went to this orphanage. Every night, I would listen to the music coming deep down from my soul, and I would record my song. “Get up you lazy bones! You have two minutes to finish your test!” shouted Mr. Reilly, my quite friendly science teacher. Too much day dreaming, as always. The school counselor told the orphanage that I was an unusual kid, suffering from subconscious trauma, and living in a happy aura. After hearing this, I asked how much coke the counselor took, and that got me in big time trouble. I handed in my science test and went out to the lunch area. I started writing down a few notes on my table. The cafeteria proctor wasn’t too happy about that. So, after listening to his boring (as always) speech, I stuck my hands in my jeans and walked outside. The music came again from deep down. My body chilled all over, and then started relaxing. I started thinking about what the world would be like without music. I stopped after about two minutes; I didn’t want to tire out my brain. The song started swirling around me like a wind blowing leaves around you. If only more people could listen to my song, hear the music. Oh, what a better place the world would be. And maybe, just maybe, Mr. Reilly would be nice to me. Who knows? I strolled back inside, took my bag, and headed for my math class. We probably had one of those stupid quizzes again. I sang a melody, and stepped in class.





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