Well ladies and gentlemen, that's a question that has one short answer. The music. The long answer, is a bit more complex.

Now, you're probably wondering what I mean. And that, is the long answer. For as long as I can remember, I've been a musical person. I key to it. It's my form of meditation. It lets me take all these feelings that I can't put into words, and translate into something more than a weird twisting in my chest. It's what keeps me sane.

My first experience with Three Days Grace was the radio and I Hate Everything About You. I taped that puppy onto a cassette, right after Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit. It was an intense song, and really my first introduction to screaming vocals. I didn't go out and buy the CD because, well, I did not relate to any of the other singles. How things have changed.

Time went on and I did my own thing. I got into doing the actual playing of music, on an instrument I wanted to play, not what a teacher or family member decided. More and more of my time went to the music. I wanted nothing more than to play and play until I got out all these sounds that were stirring in my brain.

Friction started to build, and my life took a severe turn. My so-called pathway of life wasn't exactly paved, straight, or smooth. It scared me. I needed to escape it. I couldn't do the music thing, because it was one of the reasons my path was so difficult. It was the music's fault. I wasn't content with it anymore. I needed something stronger. Something that would take the feelings of being a non-person and smash them away. I wanted to feel something better than what I was (or was not) feeling.

I found that something, and used it. Again, and again, and again. I knew that now, not only was my world falling apart, so was I. It was about this time that I heard Animal I've Become for the first time. Brad's pounding bass line seemed to match my thoughts. Neil's drumbeat, my pulse. Barry's guitar, the feelings that I couldn't let out. For those of you who've watched the video, and seen Adam struggling with the monster in his bed, seeing it in his reflection, that was me. I knew what I was doing was wrong, I needed to stop, but I couldn't. I don't think I really wanted to. After all, if you're in an avalanche, it's better to be snowboarding on top of it, semi-in control. You won't survive, but you'll last longer as opposed to being obliterated instantly.

So, to make a long story less long, I eventually got caught and threatened with rehab and therapy. I cut back, then quit altogether. Wasn't easy by any means. It took me about half a year of trying and failing before I reached the clean streak I'm on now.

Just because you're clean doesn't mean you're not addicted. There's this voice that whispers in my head. It's not around at every moment, but it waits. Waits for a bad day, a bad feeling, a bad look, a bad excuse. And then it whispers in my ear, grabs me on the shoulder.

I don't even remember what it was about, but one day I decided to give up being clean. Life clean was miserable. Life addicted was miserable, but with tolerable spots. I was tired of trying to put my life back on track. Tired of rebuilding my piddly little snow wall when the avalanche just pushed it over with no effort. I sat down and put on the radio, because that's part of my routine. I said I was a musical person, and I needed a soundtrack to destruction. I wasn't even thinking about what I was about to do, other than what it was going to do for me right now. I was done fighting to turn things around. I couldn't bring my life back, it was lost. It was far too late to get it back. So why bother?

It just so happens that at that moment, a new song played on the radio. Just a bit of simple picking. A lone vocal that sent chills up my spine. A drumbeat. As soon as the distortion, the trilling guitar, rolled over me, I felt like someone had kicked me in the chest. I stopped. I sat there, with tears on the edge of my eyes, listening to the rest of the song. I didn't relapse back into my addiction. You probably know which song stopped me.

Right after that, I went and looked up who sung that song. The more I read the band's history, the more I understood. A song from one addict to another. A story from one musician to another.

I bought the CD, and listened. I bought the other CD and listened. I had been cast out because of the music. I had lost so much, and it was the music's fault. I turned my back on music and hated myself for ever trusting it. Three Days Grace brought me back to the music. It was--is--uplifting to hear a voice from my side of the line, from someone who has been there. Someone who didn't immediately join forces with the unrelenting, uncaring avalanche. Someone who says, "no, stop" but puts a compassionate hand on my shoulder when they speak. The music is part of me, I understand I can't deny that, and that it will make it hard for me to find a place in this world. But I'm standing, I got back up.

"If you have a dream, don't give up. It will happen if you put your mind to it. If you're trying to break into the music business, or film business, it's tough, but like i said, if you want it bad enough, you'll get it." (Adam Gontier)