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I feel like I will never have a stronger connection to music other than the music I grew up with. Whether it was the Rock ‘n’ Roll I danced to in the family room with my dad as a child, or the music I listened to when I was in middle school and high school, I feel like I have such strong memories associated with those songs.

Growing up, it seemed as though classic rock music was always flowing through the house. I remember falling in love with Lynard Skynard and Jackson Browne’s music and stealing my dad’s CDs to play in my room on repeat. Living in Miami, we often would open the windows and sliding glass doors, and let the music play loudly through the whole house and out into the backyard. The 90’s felt so free. I remember dancing throughout the family room, my feet on my dad’s, while the music blared. I listen to Doctor My Eyes by Jackson Browne and think about it’s relevance to life.

Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears without crying
Now I want to understand
 I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can
 Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise to leave them open for so long
 ‘Cause I have wandered through this world
And as each moment has unfurled
I’ve been waiting to awaken from these dreams
People go just where they will
I never noticed them until I got this feeling
That it’s later than it seems
 Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what you see
I hear their cries
Just say if it’s too late for me
 Doctor, my eyes
Cannot see the sky
Is this the prize
For having learned how not to cry

Once I was in middle school, I started picking up on music coming out at the time. Throughout high school, I listened to mostly rock, “alternative rock”, punk rock, ska, indie, and emo. I have a playlist on my Spotify of a bunch of the music that frequently spilled through the speakers in my room back then. There is a certain comfort I find in the music that I fell in love with back then. There is a certain magic to the lyrics – and a lack of lyrics filled with materialistic and empty words.

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