Music was always there for me when no one else was. There was always something about listening to your favorite singer expressing things you can’t express yourself.
Like they know what you’re going through, like they understand and are there for you.
It makes all those famous people seem more like yourself. More… human.
Music helped me so much. The way they sang the lyrics, and played their instruments. The anticipation of waiting till they came here.
Through the years, the music I listen to has become darker. Harder, more raw and hopeless. I listen to music that reflects how I feel. Lyrics that explain every single thing in my life.
If anyone listened to the way I sing along, while understanding the lyrics, they would know how I feel.
The music used to be enough. Used to. I used to be able to sing it all out, almost scream it out.
I still do that, but it doesn’t make a difference, not anymore. It helped me so much in the past.. if it wasn’t for my music I wouldn’t even be here right now, writing this all down.
Music saved my life.
But it doesn’t anymore, it’s not enough to stop this helpless daze I’m in. It doesn’t stop the pain taking over. Music doesn’t stop the bags forming under my eyes from a thousand sleepless nights.
It doesn’t heal my wounds, or make the scars disappear.
But, I’ll always be grateful for music. It still makes me feel a little more alive..