By Alan D.D.
I never felt okay with my body, my feelings, my mind or even the way I look in the pictures. I never liked anything about me, maybe only the fact that I could learn fast when I really liked the topic, except that made me a victim of school bullying. Shy, calm, Arabic, good grades… you do the math and see how things were every single day in school.
Every time I try to remember, I can only think about two guys I really had a good relationship with. It felt hugely great to have those two at my side to joke with. But we were not a group, as the two of them were only mates. Eventually, we lost contact, and things started to get worse. Really, really worse.
I was sinking in depression
I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t feel good with anything and hated everything about me. To say that I was sinking in depression barely describes how it actually felt when I was at school, now as a teenager. However, as soon as I got home I would put my headphones on. I’d turn the volume up and let my favourite bands and singers scream all the words I wasn’t even capable of saying to myself. That I was worthy, that I mattered, that I wanted to feel better, and sometimes, that I needed a break from life.
My parents were mad at me for doing this every time I could, but doing it was my way of fighting back my demons, keeping the air coming inside my lungs. Of course I never said a thing about it to most people, just to some of my friends. But music became my new breathing, my new spirit, maybe even an extension of my soul.
The air came in
I created multiple catharses every time I was alone or had a couple of minutes to myself. It became an addiction, but I felt that all my pieces that had been falling down while I walked started to come back. Many nights I cried and screamed in silence, feeling my chest breaking, but the air coming in.
One night, I had one of my worst breakdowns. There were no papers to draw on, no notebooks to write about it, and my headphones were in another house in another city. That night, I cut my hand in the bathroom with the razor. I cut over and over and over again, until the pain came out as blood.
That same week I wrote a note and almost tried to kill myself in school. But my mind came back just in time. That same week I got my headphones back, and promised to never ever be without them again. Am I dependent and weak? I may be, but if that means I’m still alive, I’m proud to say so.
Music saved me
Now, whenever I know that I’m having a nervous breakdown, and depression, anxiety, stress, insomnia, or all of them at once try to take control of my head, I simply listen to music. It allows me to breathe again. And now, I remember them because I’ve used them so much. All my saving songs play in my head when I need them to.
As long as there’s another track in my playlist, there will be more days in my calendar.