Kanchana Sutharshan

Mrs. Sobiera
EWC4U
October 5th, 2015

Sutharshan 1

"Chasing Down Colour"

I didn't know if the chemistry of my brain was different, like somehow a layer of
ice formed over the chemicals that caused me the slightest euphoria, or if it was merely
the surroundings I existed in. As I drifted into adolescence, suddenly the colour that
existed in my life seeped out and dripped before me, and I was living in a reality of grey.
However, as I grew older, I wanted to break the confines of my lackluster world, and it
led me down a path of insane moments and heartbreak. Here's the story of my chase
for colour.
I still remember the smell of the grass, and the stench of empty beer cans. I still
remember how soft the mud felt underneath my brand new, subsequently ruined, shoes
the rain from the night before leaving its grimy mark. The kaleidoscope lights
illuminating the cloud of dust over the obstreperous crowd, making everyone's giddy
eyes sparkle. I still remember holding my best friend's hand and letting every
melancholy feeling flow out of me, screaming the lyrics to my favourite song so loud my
throat was coarse and swollen.
That was August 23rd 2013, Riot Fest. It was my first concert, and my first time
seeing my favourite band at the time, A Day to Remember. Around this time, I had just
been over a lonely freshman year, and things in my life had headed down a steady

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decline. I was so isolated in school, at that point I hadnt really made friends, and it
bought this chillness into my life.
But that night, things were different. The music flowing through the speakers
provided this aura, and I felt a fire inside me I had never felt before. The crowd was the
very definition of the word insane, people were jumping, pushing, yelling and there was
a sense of complete chaos. But I felt like a renegade, as if I was in a crowd of proud
rejects, that I wanted to be just like. In the midst of the drum hits, and notes that made
my head spin, that entire crowd of strangers felt like a family.
At some point, a random 20-something-year-old guy turned around to me, and
asked me if I wanted to crowd surf. I turned to my friend, her eyes scorching in a silent
dont you dare. For some reason, I said yes. He grabbed me and threw me into the air,
and I went flying across the crowd, my heart beating out of my chest, anticipating the
moment I would be dropped. But, I continued, across the thousand-person crowd, until I
reached barricade. The security guard grabbed me and set me on my feet, and I ran
trying to find my way back to the crowd, high-fiving the guitar player on stage in the
process. I felt undefeatable, untouchable.
I eventually found my friend, and after my body went into a state of tired defeat,
we left the crowd as some band from the 90's sang slow songs. We walked away from
the crowd and lied down on the wet grass. I remember staring up at the nearly empty
sky, while we laughed until our lungs gave out, something I hadn't done in a very long
time. The clouds swerved dark and taunting, the half-crescent moon illuminated the sky,
setting the few stars in the sky ablaze. We watched the stars twinkle and planes go by

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as we shook our heads in time with the music. What I felt inside me was something
lucid, something beautiful.
Afterwards, my brother came to pick me up, and he looked at me completely
dumbfounded. I was covered in mud, a smile plastered to my face. Usually he would
never let me enter his car without wiping my feet off, making sure not a speck of dirt
entered. But that night, he asked no questions, and watched the smile continue to
spread across my face, mirroring it. We turned up the music, much to the dismay of
throbbing, ringing ears. We rolled the windows down, and we watched the flashing
highway signs, singing along to the terrible music on the radio.
It was the first night I felt a little colour seep into my life, a night I will never forget.
And then suddenly, much to the distress of my bank account, I was going to concerts
almost twice a month. My best friend and I would take the subway downtown for every
concert, most of the time on school nights. We would come to school with the eyeliner
we were too exhausted to take off, smeared across our puffy red eyes. Smudged, black
sharpie crosses drawn across our hands, feeling so tired our hands shook. But, we
couldn't care less. We were having the most fun we'd have as teenagers, and I was
happy. We grew up in those venues, and it was something that captivated us.
I went to concert after concert with her, never growing tired of her presence, the
pushing in crowds, or the music so loud I was one decibel short of an ear bleed. It made
me feel something that I could never explain in words, it must be experienced to be
understood. Music was not just a solace, it was an escape. It didn't matter if I had a
tough week, I knew that in the weeks ahead I would be in an atmosphere that made me

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feel home, and reminded me that everything's okay. As long as I had a concert coming
up, I was happy.
But eventually, I noticed that when the music would blare, my heart stopped
beating faster, the electricity within me faltering; the lights illuminated nothing in my
eyes. Somewhere along the way, I started taking the subway alone. The spot next to me
at concerts filled with strangers, and yet, I still searched the emptiness next to me for a
hand to hold, but found it vacant. The negative aura that surrounded me without my
control, caused everyone in my life I loved to leave, growing too tired of my damaging
cynical personality. I think the events in my life, like losing my grandparents, my friends
seeming distant, my depression creeping back in my life like an uninvited old friend,
could not be pushed down and swept under the rug anymore. It made its way into my
personality, and not even when I was at concerts, could I destroy the feeling of
loneliness. Things just became too much, and concerts were no longer an escape, the
sadness was irrepressible.
I wanted to destroy it, I wanted to reach within myself, and pull out everything
that made me hurt. But unhappiness is relentless; returning right when I thought I had
extinguished the chillness in my heart. I wanted to yell at everyone I loved, beg for a
reason why they would leave me when I felt the troubled waters dragging me under, but
it was as if I was speaking to them underwater, while they moved freely above. Just as
quick as my life was painted with a few splashes of colour, the colours faded like a
photograph left in the sunlight.

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I was suddenly sixteen, and time was simultaneously standing eerily still, and
moving way too quickly. My parents begged me to explain to them the blankness in my
eyes, but the reflection of sadness and disappointment in theirs made me hide. I think
not having true friends to catch my fall, or the dread I felt getting out of bed and having
to face another lonely day every morning, created a pessimistic air to my life.
Eventually, I yearned for any type of happiness. So, I did probably the most mindless
thing I have ever done.
It was three weeks before my seventeenth birthday. There was a tour called
Future Hearts, going across the United States. It featured the band All Time Low, who
never came to Toronto during their tours, and the closest tour date was Rochester, New
York. I was going through so much at the time, and even though I stopped feeling
electric at concerts, something was telling me to go. So, I called a friend I had made at a
concert and asked if she would drive me, and she surprisingly said yes. My brother and
his friends came along to make sure both of us would be safe.
The next morning, I got into my friend's car and we began our five-hour drive,
without my parents' approval. They thought I was staying the night at a friend's house to
work on a project, so I packed when they were at work, and I was gone. I think the
whole rebellious element to the situation, and anticipation gave me such excitement,
something I hadn't felt in a long time. On the drive, we blasted music so loud, and stuck
our hands out the windows, we were completely carefree. We passed farm after farm,
and stopped at Niagara Falls. At the border they asked no questions, and we were off.
We stuffed our faces in calorie-ridden gas station food, the pile of empty chip bags
creating a taunting hill in the back seat. We slept in our cars, and washed up in the gas

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station bathroom. We continued our drive, and after two hours, ended up at the concert
venue, while my brother and his friends agreed to hang around the area. We stood in
line from 6 A.M. to 7 P.M., making friends with everyone around us.
They finally let us in, and we were front row, practically hugging the stage. The
three opening bands were all bands that I knew of and loved, and I completely let go.
That psychedelic feeling was back, and in full force. I felt completely alive, and happy.
There was a moment that confetti flew from the cannons in complete slow motion; it was
as if everything moved like the world was suddenly encased in fluid. My blinking slowed,
and I stared at the ceiling, as the confetti covered me in a colourful blanket, the
flickering lights cutting across the room slowly. I felt the blood pumping through my
veins, my heart beat out of my chest, and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. In
that moment, nothing mattered except the music flowing through the speakers and the
sound of my friend screaming the lyrics in time with me. The excitement around me was
the best intoxication I had ever felt. I was in a room of people who felt the same as me, I
was a part of this unspoken family again.
I spent All Time Low's entire set trying to convince myself that this is real life, they
were real, and so was I. I didn't realize the tears pouring down my face, and strangers
around held on to me until the sad songs were over. I screamed every last lyric, letting
every single note resonate in my bones. When the concert was over, I didn't feel empty.
I felt electricity still course through my veins, well after the concert was over. On the
drive back me and my friend laughed, cried and danced to music the entire way home.

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When I got home my parents were fuming, and I wasn't allowed to leave the
house for anything but school for a month, or go to concerts for the next three months.
But, they got over it eventually because they noticed the light in my eyes flickering back
to life. I can tell you with conviction, that I will never regret that night. It was almost as if I
kicked so much sadness out of my heart in one night.
Beforehand, I had been moving among the people in my life like a ghost,
someone with no substance, just flesh and a set of bones. How lonely I was affected
me, I felt as if everyone I love eventually grew tired of me, and as a result, I pushed
people away. I am someone who needs people in my life to feel something, someone to
share moments with. When I didnt have those friends, I felt empty and lost. I think I
needed to get away from everyone I knew, in order to feel something bigger than
myself, and that was Rochester. I was only there for two days, but it wasn't about the
length of time, it was about the magnitude of the moments I experienced. My rebellious
actions reminded me I was alive; I needed that to mean something. I rediscovered the
happiness concerts gave me in beginning.
I'm still chasing colour, but I'm running faster than I ever have. My world isn't grey
anymore, and I removed all those who sucked the light out my life. I found people who
don't ignore that negative aura when it creeps back into my life, rather help me in the
fight to destroy it. In the beginning of my teenage years, I was desperately looking for
something to make me feel electric, to bring some kind of colour into my life. Music and
concerts did just that, it was something so substantial to me, and it helped me define
happiness. I truly grew up in concert venues. Riot Fest opened my eyes to something
so fun, so incredible, and suddenly I was completely passionate about music. The

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whirlwind of concerts and one hour friendships with the people that surrounded me,
bought so much color into my life. But as time went on, life became louder than the
music, and I found myself not enjoying concerts. I needed something, some big event,
to rip me away from the ghost that had latched itself onto my emotions. It took going to
Rochester, and escaping from everyone, to let go of all my problems for a night, to
reignite my love for concerts. I am defining happiness for myself, and as my life is
moving on to places I didn't think I'd make to. As I grow, I am learning that I cant live
this life alone, and I need to let people in. I need to let my walls down, only then can I
heal. Im trying my absolute best in my chase for colour, and I think I can finally see the
finish line.

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"Chasing Down Colour" Reflection

My memoir, "Chasing Down Colour," tells the story of my battle with teenage
depression and how I fought to overcome it. I used my experiences at concerts to show
my decline and ultimately, my personal growth, and how much music helped me deal
with the toughest time in my life.
It was difficult to write, because I wanted to create subtle references to my
emotions, to make it less overwhelming for myself and those reading it. I wanted
references to my sadness to be subtle but powerful, to make the reader think, and for it
to create an impact. But, once I started writing, the words came rushing out, and there
was a lot I had to take out to create a piece that meant more than just words on paper.
Also, there were a lot of feelings that were difficult to put into words. Such as the
loneliness I felt, that I mention multiple times throughout my memoir. It is a powerful
emotion, but is quite hard to describe, when it is so overwhelming. I found myself staring
at the document trying to describe certain things, and I really had to relive certain
memories, and try to remember how certain events made me feel. This also created
difficultly because there are a lot of memories I repress, such as the way my parents
treated me when I began changing for the bad. These memories are laced with so
much sadness, making it difficult to open up. Also, it was difficult to see so many of my

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personal feelings on paper, but it was beneficial for me, because I could see how much I
have grown as a person over the years.
The parts that were easiest to write about were definitely my concert experiences. They
are some of my favourite memories and really stand out, so they were easy to describe
because of how vividly I remember them. It was also nice to get to relive the best nights
of my life.
This memoir definitely made me grow as a writer. A major part of being a writer, is
putting your reader in the atmosphere you're writing about, and I think this memoir gave
me an opportunity to experiment different ways to do that, especially when describing
concerts. I wanted to put the reader where I wanted them, for them to see the world
through my eyes, and feel how I felt. Through this memoir, I really developed as a
sensory writer.
Another large part of being a writer, is to make your readers read between the
lines, and leave subtle hints for them, to make the interpretations as to what you truly
mean. I had to try to allude to certain feelings instead of referencing certain feelings
point blank, to keep the reader engaged and make them really think. I became better at
describing feelings, and using literary devices to better explain my writing.
Nonetheless, it ended up being a release, and I think there are a lot of things that
I haven't come to terms with and writing this memoir helped me get closer to that. It was
hard to reopen some memories I try to keep bottled-up, but it was important to open up
about my feelings after everything has happened, to come to terms with it and move on.

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Lastly, writing has always been one of my passions, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to
write this memoir about a small, but substantial section of my life.