How often do you think about what your life would have been like if you'd made different choices?
These thoughts hit me frequently. The most recent being yesterday, when I listened to the last album I recorded with my mother, and ended up spending the next couple of hours bawling my eyes out in bed.
Why have I stopped writing music? Why have I stopped listening to music? Why did I turn to writing as my creative outlet and abandon the outlet I spent my entire life deeply immersed in? The answer is "I don't know." I will never know.
I will never know why writing has the bigger power over me now, and I will never know why my music has the tendancy to create a sadness in me that is NEVER present unless I am listening to it.
Why does my music make me cry? Why does my writing enthuse me to no end? So much so that I am able to give up a passion that moulded me into the person I am today. I could probably give you a bunch of reasons. Reasons that relate to my unusual upbringing, perhaps? But do I whole-heartedly believe these are the reasons? "I don't know." I will never know.
But what I do know is that the sadness attached to my music is eternal, and the enthusiasm attached to my writing is too. But they do NOT go together. They represent two completely different parts of my personality.
Since yesterday, I am craving that sadness again. Am I a little nuts, you ask, to WANT to feel sad? No, I don't think I am. I think I am emotionally deprived. I think I have been living my characters' emotions for too long. Listening to my music made me feel my own emotions again. And I want to cry. I need to cry, and ENJOY that amazing feeling of my heart being torn apart for no other reason than simply being able to 'feel me' again. I've been hiding behind written words for so long, that I forgot they can actually sing too.
If you like, have a listen: