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Description
Foolish little brother. He does not like music. He does not know the way it is a control mechanism for emotion.

He does not understand that the screaming metal I play upon my return home is to drown out the plaguing voices like his.
"Why don't you listen to something happier?" he says.
Because, little brother, that would be a lie. I need their screaming so I do not make my own.

He does not understand when I play endless piano solos with no words.
"They all sound the same. What's the point if they don't say anything?" he says.
Because, little brother, that is the beauty of it. Their endless calm infects my turmoil, the serene changes in emotion regulate my own.

He does not understand when I play it as a whisper then strain for every note.
"If you can't hear it, why don't you play it louder?" he says.
Because, little brother, the mood loses its integrity loudly. I do not want to shatter the delicate emotion it gives me.

He does not understand it when I play it so loudly that I cannot even make out the words.
"Turn it down! Your music sucks!" he yells after slamming open my door.
Oh, but little brother! Sometimes I just need to not hear myself. Because myself is too much to bear. And if you ever like music, then one day you will understand.

But until then...
I will turn it down.

Description
Foolish little brother. He does not like music. He does not know the way it is a control mechanism for emotion.

He does not understand that the screaming metal I play upon my return home is to drown out the plaguing voices like his.
"Why don't you listen to something happier?" he says.
Because, little brother, that would be a lie. I need their screaming so I do not make my own.

He does not understand when I play endless piano solos with no words.
"They all sound the same. What's the point if they don't say anything?" he says.
Because, little brother, that is the beauty of it. Their endless calm infects my turmoil, the serene changes in emotion regulate my own.

He does not understand when I play it as a whisper then strain for every note.
"If you can't hear it, why don't you play it louder?" he says.
Because, little brother, the mood loses its integrity loudly. I do not want to shatter the delicate emotion it gives me.

He does not understand it when I play it so loudly that I cannot even make out the words.
"Turn it down! Your music sucks!" he yells after slamming open my door.
Oh, but little brother! Sometimes I just need to not hear myself. Because myself is too much to bear. And if you ever like music, then one day you will understand.

But until then...
I will turn it down.