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That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. Not one more day, not one more night. I was dying inside. My life was going to hell in a handbasket and no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop it. No matter who helped me, I couldn’t stop it. No matter how many times people said it would get better, I couldn’t stop it. This was going to ruin me.



My plans, my goals, my future, my life. I could see it crumbling in my hands like the Nutri-Grain bar in your lunch bag that got pancaked by your thermos. All because of a bad math mark. Here’s me, in an advanced program in Grade 9, averaging a 67 in Math. I hate to even think of that number now. We were doing sit-ups in gym the other day and I blocked it out of my head. 65, 66, 68. I’m not a dumb guy, in fact quite the opposite, but a combination of a God-awful teacher, and just not getting it were eating me alive. What’s worse is the stress was not helping the situation in the least. It was perhaps the biggest hinderance. The last straw was when my Father told me I was missing a morning hockey game for school. What’s the point of going to the class if we don’t get taught anything?! Hear that? That’s the sound of me hitting rock bottom. I was missing the one thing I loved more than anything for a below average Math class.



I was trying so hard, but it just wouldn’t come. Now this......whatever this was, was taking hockey from me. The one thing I vowed no one would ever take. Ordinarily this would motivate me, but not now. I was broken. I sat in bed that night, my Father and I not even speaking because of things that were said in the latest battle of the seemingly endless war we were waging. I was wondering where it all went wrong, I should have this! I was just looking for a way out. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to exist. I didn’t want to have to wake up every morning to face a new day. Not only was I letting myself down, but my family, everyone who was trying to help me (which oddly enough does not include my teacher. Thanks Ms.!). So I turned to my usual coping mechanism for stress. Music. There, I was greeted by a guitar riff that had saved me before, and was coming back to the rescue.


A few months prior, I was dumped by my girlfriend, which had me feeling pretty awful for about a week. When I turned to my music, one song in particular had gotten me through it, Turn the Page by Metallica. Not their usual hard stuff, a softer, slower, melodic song. A cover of a Bob Seger song. I interpret it as “turning the page” on a bad time. I first heard it when my Dad showed me a montage of Christopher Nolan’s Batman series to the song. It helped me through getting cut from a hockey team, and after one play of the video, I owned the song. Now, at 11:00 at night, sitting in bed trying to vent through writing, the shuffle button has saved me. I finally have found peace. It is finally time to get out of this hole. It is finally time, to Turn the Page.



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