People escape to their oasis out of necessity. Out of intrigue. Out of the underlying yearning for contentment and happiness.

Bliss.

My turbulent high school journey has, above all else, taught me the sooner you find your method of relief, the better. Fortunately, it took me little time to realize the ease at which I could get my quick hit of escapism and keep myself sane. My headphones are always with me, playlist locked and loaded on my phone, ready to fire a silver bullet of eighties-tinged pop hooks to my cranium.

Music leads to an escape.

I’ve always seen music as a form of art. However simple as that idea may seem, I feel like most people do not see it that way. While listening to music for a vibe or a feeling satisfies most people’s artistic cravings, it has never been enough for me. This popular method of musical consumption holds no fallacy, but it lacks the solution to my daily fatigue.

I need something to prevent the challenges high school flings at me from defining my existence.

I need something to keep the crises of life at bay, to keep the weight of adolescence from crushing me to a pulp.

I need more.

I need an idea, something concealed behind a curtain of sound that I can grab and hold on to when things get rough. Music needs to have meaning in the lyrics, in the instrumentals, in the song structure, in nearly everything. When it clicks, when the drums and the horns ring through the speakers and my earbuds dance in my ears, that feels like bliss. Those ideas elevate, soar past the barrier of flesh, of air and carry me through the waves of change.

Rough days have passed, and rough days lie ahead, but I think high school holds a pivotal importance in how you figure out a way to overcome those times of distress.

Music has been my method. But every person must find their own.

Each person must dance to the tune of their own music.