Looking a Gift Ass In The Mouth

I don’t take this for granted. But, I think, sometimes I don’t quite appreciate that it’s not a thing that’s readily available to everyone. This is not to say, of course, that I am good, or gifted, or anything of the sort.

To be honest, I don’t even really have a grasp on all the ways that music permeates my being. All I know is that I can break time and bend the light to create whatever sort of emotional space I want to sit in. When I play and sing, everything else stops, and I can — by choosing particular songs — feel however I choose.

That’s lovely, but it doesn’t compare to the unreasonable and inexplicable wonder that is being able to write a song to capture whatever essence you wish, record it, and then listen to it whenever you like. Unbothered about hearing myself, but with the music crafted to my own emotional specification, I can modulate my mood and feeling. It’s a drug, of sorts, and it’s certainly addicting.

But I am so grateful that it’s mine.