The Voice in the Water

“I missed you.”

“Please don’t”

“You shut me out for a hour or so,”

“Yeah, I know. It was nice to finally have some peace and quiet.”

“Just because God gave you some peace for the moment doesn’t mean I’m going away.”

“It’s not like you went away. Just not hearing your voice for a second was nice.”

“You don’t like hearing my voice?”

“No I don’t need your “nuggets of wisdom,” that you so graciously bless me with.”

I pick up my horn. Maybe just getting my mind to focus on something else will help.

*note, note, note, frack. note, note, frack.*

*sigh*

“Struggling again?”

“Yeah”

“Isn’t this stuff you have been practicing for years?”

“Yeah”

“It’s literally the stuff your lessons teacher gave you on the first day.”

“I’m aware”
“Shouldn’t stuff like this come naturally?”

“Maybe you aren’t practicing hard enough, or maybe you are just doing something wrong.”

“But I practice all the time.”

“Do you practice enough though? You took time to play video games last night.”

“I mean, I guess I can always practice more.”

*note, note, frack, frack*

“UGGGHHHHHH”

“Why are you going into music again?”

“Great question.”

“You literally can’t play your instrument”

“You’re not wrong.”

The more I play the more frustrated I get. The voice continues to berate me constantly. At

every note. Everything that wasn’t perfect gave the voice more leverage. The more I played the

more abusive the voice got. It got to the point where I just got so angry at myself that everything

I did wrong made me upset. The voice kept getting louder and louder. “You can’t do this, you

can’t do that.” I fixated on the fact that I’m going into music but I’m not competent enough to be

a musician. All my insecurities about being a musician were amplified more and more the more I

played.

I put my horn down and sit for a while. Drowning in the memories my mind keeps locked

away for this specific occasion. I’m struggling to stay afloat as the I think about the number of
times that I’m reminded about how I won’t make any money in music, and that’s if I’m lucky

enough to find a job. The laugh of my grandma when I told her I wanted to be a music major,

echoed through my mind. The look of disappointment that I have received from so many people

close to me swim past me as I continue to drown and sink deeper and deeper into my mind.

The deeper I go the darker it gets. It’s not just about how I play anymore…The voice is

louder now. Its unbearable.

“YOU ARE A FAILURE” the voice says.

The memories of every time that I failed and disappointed my father emerge out from

swirling vortex of thoughts that surround me. Pulling me deeper downward. From little league

baseball to my extended career in swimming, to the current dream of being a musician. I look

back on how much I practiced to be perfect at everything I did. The words of my father’s regular

lectures pierced through my brain. I can see my younger self in tears because I know I didn’t do

well. At least according to his standards. “This is what happens when you don’t try.” My father

has said many times throughout my life.

There is a dark chasm below. I see it. I stop myself on the ledge and look into the chasm

below. The voice returns,

“YOUR BEST ISNT GOOD ENOUGH. SO WHAT IS THE POINT OF CONTINUING.”

My mind hurls thoughts at me. Every moment I haven’t been good enough not just at

sports but in everything else. My past relationships are thrown at me one by one. Reminding me

of how much I tried my hardest to make things work. But I never was good enough for them.

“THEY NEVER LOVED YOU.”

“YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE LOVED”

Each thought hits harder and harder. I think about the mistakes I made, and I physically

rile in pain from reliving the moments, I hate myself for every single one of them. I deserved to

be pushed away and left alone.

I am pushed closer and closer to the ledge.

“It’s my fault. Isn’t it?”

“Always has been”

I think of Troy.

“IT’S YOUR FAULT HE IS GONE”

Thinking back. I see his face. Feeling what I’m feeling now. This pain inside that he was

trying to hide. But at that point it had gotten too much to handle. I kept away from him. Instead

of starting conversation. Not even a polite hello or anything. Just went back to doing what I was

doing.

“HE WOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT.”

“WHEN YOU FELT TERRIBLE, HE LIFTED YOU UP. AND YOU ARE JUST GOING TO

LEAVE HIM THERE!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!”

In the moment I admit I was so focused on myself. I was trying to get through a breakup

that had just recently happened. And I chose to practice to get away from that pain I was feeling.

That I was too blind to realize that I had not even tried to help Troy. I remember the last memory
I have of him. Practicing by himself before auditions. I saw him. He looked sad. But I ignored it

and went to practicing myself. Focused on my own audition.

“I didn’t even try.”

“He needed someone to talk to and I didn’t even try”

“Maybe I couldn’t have saved him, but I could have at least been there for him.”

“You were so concerned with yourself that you left someone who was in desperate need of help

alone.”

“I HATE MYSELF”

I look down into the chasm. This utter failure as a friend and simply a human being. Hit

deep through my soul. It knocked me down I grabbed on to the edge overlooking the chasm. My

fingers can only hold on for so long. It hurts so much. The thoughts surround me continue to

attack me. I don’t think I can hold on…

It’s Sunday. I walk into church like I always do. I say “hi” and “good morning” to all the

people that I have known for years. (They never fail at being so extraordinarily nice.) My small

group leader asks how my week was. I respond with “good” as we all do. But they know me

better than that. They give me a second glance of slight suspicion. But its time for the service to

start. The big boxy room is filled with people and music. People all around are raising their

hands praising God, singing with beautiful voices that fill the room. It truly is a beautiful sight,

since my family likes to sit in the back. I get to see the church feel the presence of God and how

they react to Him. The sermon starts. The events of the week weigh on me like 500 pound
weights I have to hold on my shoulders. My pastor talks about the way Jesus takes up all our

burdens. Matthew 11:28 – “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give

you rest.” Is a verse that comes up. It hits me deep into my soul. My pastor asked people to

come up to the front of the sanctuary for those who wanted to give their burdens to Jesus.

Looking back on the week, and how I was truly feeling. I felt the need and desire to be free from

the way I felt. So I went up while they sang their final tunes. And I cried. I completely broke

down in the front of the sanctuary. My small group leader came up to pray for me.

After barely hanging on to the ledge for so long. My mind stopped the voices in my head

stopped. The violent torrent of thoughts calmed. And I looked around to see a figure holding out

His hand. And I took it.

I felt free for once I’m not saying that everything would go away. But for the moment I felt

what my pastor was talking about. I felt lighter like all that had gone on in the week was not

being forced onto my shoulders. I continued to cry for a while. But I left feeling better. For the

moment the voice in my head had stopped yelling at me and I could be rest.
Rhetorical Rationale:

I specifically wrote about a time in my life where mentally I was struggling quite severely.

There was a lot that was going on in my life that I partly mentioned throughout this memoir. I

chose this because this moment of my life was really dark and I wanted to show how my faith

made such a difference and helped me to get out of it.

I wanted my memoir to be start off feeling like a conversation. Which is why I put the voice

and myself on different sides of the document. I wanted it to look like a text message. Kinda

starting off with a low intensity “introduction” to the voice and what was happening. While also

keeping a sense of time. (Talking about how God shut out the voice for a little and then talking

about it again on the next Sunday.)

In terms of rhetorical devices. I used an extended metaphor for most of the memoir. The

metaphor comparing my mind to the ocean felt very fitting for the actual feeling and idea of what

the mind is like. Throughout the metaphor I tried to use as much imagery as I could that felt

fitting. It also just felt like a more comfortable way to say the things I wanted to say without

being blunt with it. But using the metaphor I wanted the reader to be able to paint a picture of the

ocean but also be still aware that they are still in someone’s mind. Especially towards the end I

used a lot of allusions to Biblical stories and verses. Directly the one from Matthew but as well

as alluding to the story of Jesus calming the storm as well as Jesus picking up Peter from the

water.

Throughout my memoir I tried slowly increase the aggression of the voice to show the way

the mind spirals. And how things became in a way more irrational the longer the voice persisted.
I wanted it to emphasize through all caps and the like to get the point a crossed. And hopefully

pull the reader more into the reading.

I would say as the voice grew more aggressive, I tried to have the story climax at the ledge

over the chasm. In my opinion this is the most powerful moment. Just because it is an

accumulation of everything in the memoir and it really was the climax in the story which would

bring the most tension. Because of how bad of a mental moment, it was.