I’ve been living the strangest existence lately. It’s been a life without structure or meaning. I wonder what I’ll think of this phase of my life when I look back in five years.
Some days are easier than others. Sometimes, it’s a struggle just to find a reason to exist.
I have to admit that every pain, every sadness is inspiring. It may make my fingers bleed and my lungs ache, but the pure emotion that comes out of it is worth it, because that means I’m feeling something, instead of the numbness that scares me most.
My one mistake was trying to forget someone, when instead I should have been trying to forget life in general. I’ve always had the habit of thinking too much, and not doing enough. I’ve been trying to set goals to get somewhere, when it’s working toward those goals that’s the important part.
I made an appointment with my therapist again1, because something is definitely wrong with me right now. It feels like I have the world at my fingertips. I have so much time and opportunity on my side. I laugh at the right jokes. I dance at the right songs. It’s all staring me in the face, but everything still feels empty.
I’m not looking for answers. I just want to stop asking questions.
- I haven’t been back since last October [↩]
The only thing that heals me when I am like that is making music. It’s the only thing that does all the key things: removes you from yourself a bit; demands of you an exacting production and challenge (particularly if you’re getting something figured out by ear, which is my method); rewards you with the satisfaction of achievement; and pours into your soul like honey, making you lighter no matter how grieving the song may be.
Art too, for some; I had a teacher who told me I was wasting time THINKING and planning instead of making. Since he passed away of a heart attack a couple years back, that little gem pokes me more and more now in the shoulder. PLAY!
MAKE STUFF!
DO IT NOW!!
it says.