I scoffed, looking at the board. "Write about something dear to you." I already knew what I'd be writing about. Music. I got home and hopped on the computer. I wrote what I needed to, printed it out, and stuffed it in my binder. I found my iPod and turned it up.

The next day, I watched as Clare's pretty blue eyes scanned my paper. "Eli… This is… amazing. Do you want your headphones back?"

I shook my head. "You need them more than I do, Blue Eyes."

The bell rang, and Mrs. Dawes looked at me. "Eli, would you like to read your assignment?"

Again, I nodded. I took my paper from Clare and walked to the front of the classroom. I started reading.

"I'd always loved music. It was always there. When I needed to calm down, to cheer up, to do something, there it was. When my parents fought, my headphones went on. The music became louder. I found hard rock and screamo and metal, and it took my mind off of everything. It was a… release.

The music was dark. And maybe that was why the rest of me followed suit. But it didn't matter. When everyone thought I was weird for dressing in all black, my music was there. I ought those bulky headphones. I didn't need to hide my love for music behind those tiny white earbuds.

When my mom died, back when I was 10, I didn't cry. Instead, I lost myself in music. Skillet, 30 Seconds to Mars, RED, System Of A Down, Incubus, Bad Religion, All Time Low, My Chemical Romance, and The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus helped me through it all. When my sister committed suicide, when I was 13, I just drowned in the lyrics of music. I didn't want to fucking think. I just couldn't. I didn't want to remember the last words she'd said to me. I didn't want to think about how alone I was in this fucked up hell I called home. My damn dad was a drunk. He didn't care about me. He didn't give a damn if I was there or not. If I was hurt or okay, even.

So, I ran away. At 14, I ran away. I packed and I hopped on a bus, all the while listening to Incubus. I got off at my grandpa's… well, mansion, with MCR blasting in my headphones. I put the music on pause long enough to tell my grandpa that my dad told me to stay with him. He'd always liked me. Hell, he bought me my hearse. Which I'd named after him, coincidentally. The same hearse that always had my music blaring from its speakers.

But I still liked the headphones better. Because that way, no one else could hear the music. Because that way, I was the only one who could just… focus on something else.

You could say music is dear to me. Then again, you could say that the sky is blue, couldn't you? Yeah, you probably could. Life hasn't been easy. But music helps." I finished.