It has began.

“My world and I is as quiet as can be
Self imposed solitude isn’t half as bad as it seems…”

Suddenly…

The slow change is awakening from the ground and spreading from the roots.
I’m getting to the bottom of this and I’m letting myself be lead blindly.
This time, however, I am confident.
Because if you have no particular place in mind, any road will get you there.
And I’m ready, I’m armed with charm, wit and a nice ass.

Why do I let myself be swallowed in this universal hate?
Why do I go against my own nature and try to blend in?
I only feel loved when sound envelopes me like a velvet blanket.
One of those, fuzzy, electric ones that vibrate with warmth.

It certainly evokes something in me no person can.

I regret for ever for neglecting, in my ignorance, the things I love most.
I repress my talents because I’m a rigid monogamist, even when it comes to art.
I would let myself be consumed in love for a single art.
I would give it my all.

But I’m afraid?

Ah, it’s wonderful to be misunderstood! To yell to the world words that mean nothing!

We’re preached of a unified world, that of peace and a solitary existence. We’re all matter that attracts and expresses itself in mysteries only nature can decipher.
But who says I want to be as one?
I embrace my solitude, which has a negative connotation to other but to me it’s the sweetest sanctuary. I embrace my right for individuality. I reject reality and its imposition on my imagination!

I need nothing more.

“Don’t forgot the songs that made you smile,
And the songs that saved your life.
Yes, you’re older now,
And you’re a clever swine,
But they were the only ones who ever stood by you.”

My friends are the voices. Raspy, hesitant, beautiful, soulful, strong. The rhythms, climbing, slow, steady, nostalgic. The lyrics, sweet poetry that expresses the most beautiful of feelings. My friends are the golden leaves that dance in the wind, the trees that rustle as I walk by, the birds that get me out of bed, begrudgingly, the sunshine and the fresh rain, and nothing more.
I need nothing else.

“If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.”

I have died a thousand deaths and I’ve lived ones more to hear it again. For it alone, I would live a life of misery, writing love songs in the dark to proclaim its name.

Art can only be expressed in art, any intention to describe a feeling so inexplicable–the catharsis art creates–is in vain. Express your love, your catharsis in art, as Bloom says.
For art opens a doorway to the only world that could be beautiful, the only one that can be magical and full of love and the only one that justifies the title ‘utopia’.

And so it began. A noble inspiration for a humble cause.
I’m not sure where I stand but I’ve made sure I stand on my own.
Now where to find this love, this passion outside my sanctuary?
Perhaps this is my quest.

“And when you’re dancing and laughing and finally living
Hear my voice in your head and think of me kindly.”

The pursuit, happiness and love will forever be credited to art and music.

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