Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Mini Memoir
Mini Memoir
Mini Memoir
“I missed you.”
“Please don’t”
“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.”
“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.
*sigh*
“Struggling again?”
“Yeah”
“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.”
“Do you practice enough though? You took time to play video games last night.”
“UGGGHHHHHH”
“Great question.”
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
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
There is a dark chasm below. I see it. I stop myself on the ledge and look into the chasm
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.
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
I think of Troy.
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.
“WHEN YOU FELT TERRIBLE, HE LIFTED YOU UP. AND YOU ARE JUST GOING TO
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
“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
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
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.
I am reminded of when Jesus pulled Peter out of treacherous waters in Matthew 14:22-36. I
feel like Peter. Walking out into the water faithfully towards Jesus, and then I get frightened and
dragged down into the water by my own thoughts that are put there by the demons in my head.
Whispering in my ear, pulling me deeper and deeper. I would have thought that I was too far
gone at that point. Too deep underwater for Jesus to reach me. Too depressed, too sad, Too many
mistakes, too many regrets for Jesus to get me. Romans 8:38-39; “For I am convinced that
neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, [b] neither the present nor the future, nor any
powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us
from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” It honestly feels like that is not true a lot
of the time. But in this moment, it could never be clearer that I am loved and nothing I could do
“I LOVE YOU”
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
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
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
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.