The Musical Secret I have Hidden from my Mother

Well, I guess it is time to come out straight about this. Before, though, I should address some things. I am a huge fan of music, I could not get through a day without music. Music is nearly a part of me. I am listening to music currently while writing this. My mother and, late, father bonded over music. They specifically bonded over a rock band called Pink Floyd, a British rock band founded in the 60s and 70s. They also had some other music, like Led Zepplin, The Doors, and many others I could not possibly list.

Their relationship was crafted by these artists at work. They were such a happy couple. My mother has said that when I was born, she could have never been happier. She felt on top of the world, she said. She was on the path to achieving her life long dream of being involved in politics, she had my father beside her, and she had me. Things quickly changed though.

My father committed suicide. My mother's near perfect dream had then fell into shards. She could not focus on college, she was in such harsh grief, and she fell off the track she was destined to go on. Her loss of her fiancé had destroyed her utterly, and the effect still ripples throughout today, a stone thrown into the peaceful river still having an impact after years. She could not even listen to their music without collapsing into a heap of depression. Ever since then, things have not been the same.

Strange thing is, even to this day I do not remember my father or my childhood. From six and up I remember, but below that I do not. Keep in mind my father died when I was four. I have a theory here about what happened. My brain locked out the memories, almost trapped them in a dark corner of my mind, to keep me safe, and to make sure I don't feel the trauma of it. It is almost like a psychological version of how your body passes out after so much physical pain occurs.

I do indeed find this quite fascinating, that your brain can just sweep memories clean like a whiteboard. The evidence I have to back up this theory is I have very good long-term memory, though not short-term. I can remember things from years ago, but not what I was getting at the grocery store. Yes, it is odd. However I have came to accept myself for how odd I think, and how I just am in all aspects of me. Not only that, but I especially remember traumatic things that have happened before. But not that one, that one worst thing that had ever happened to me.

Seeing as that is out of the way, here comes the official letter now for my mother and my mother only.

Hey, mom;

So you know how you used to love the music you and dad listened to? Well, I have a sort of confession. I have sort of admitted to liking some of your other artists songs. But, I like one of your artists entire album. No, it is not Nirvana. It is actually the one you would least expect to hear. I, love, Pink Floyd's The Wall. I know. Keep in mind it is not April, and I could not write with my fingers crossed. So, yes. I do like your artists, despite my constant fierce aggression towards them. Just please do not bring it up all the time.

See you next time around, mom.

Sincerely, James.