Jackassalope

The Day My Music Died

It’s easy to be melodramatic about life, especially during the nights when Malinda is at work, Sophia is asleep, and I’m left alone with nothing by my thoughts. Problems are bigger, solutions are harder to come by, and hope seems to fade into the black. Mostly, I jot down a paragraph or two about what’s affecting me, followed by a largely failed attempt at sleep. But I still manage to wake up ready to take on the world again. I fight the good fight keep chasing after that dangling carrot.

Tonight, however, was different. As I sat on my living room floor watching a movie (with the mute on), I noticed how lonely my guitar looked. I grabbed it, nestled into the corner and started playing some of my favorite songs I had written over the years. But a funny thing happened. Words escaped me, phrases were lost. I had forgotten.

Music has always been my solace. It allows me an outlet to express my emotions and be in a different place while I play. My songs tell the stories of my life; past relationships, heartbreaks, and true loves. I felt so strongly about these moments, I created a rhythm for their timelines. They were my stories to share, and some, to keep. And today I realized that I have let some important pieces of me get lost in the shuffle, blending in with the clutter of bills, pressures to succeed, and disappointments of bounced paychecks. Lies and ignorance were followed by blind trust, and now I’m starring up from the bottom of a dark hole.

It’s easy to see the problem, hard to accept it, and even harder to start over again when you’re already two steps back. I think my first priority will be finding my music again. Hopefully it’s lost and not dead. Perhaps, if the song remembers when, then I can to. Regardless, I’m ignoring the dangling carrot, but I will continue to fight the good fight.