Musicians: Why We Create
These are the nights I feel closest to you.
The nights we bleed our our hearts dry into the melodies we create.
When we sweat from the grit and passion that pours from our hearts, to our fingers, out to our ears, and back again to ensconce our hearts with fire.
You understand the deepest thoughts of my mind because I scream them at you and burn them onto the paper before us.
This song is you. This song is him. This song is me. This is us
These are the nights I know we could do this forever.
When the laughter and comradery hang thick in the air. It’s magic, it’s memorable.
It’s late, it’s us, it’s real.
These are the nights I feel the most for you. Because I’m furious. I opened my soul up to vulnerability and yet you asked me for more.
“I am enough!” I shout.
“Not me, really, but the writing I create, which is the essence of everything that makes me up.”
But still you critique, challenge, dig and scrape every last shred of emotion from my body and demand I write it down.
This is how we create.
The world around us, completely oblivious.
We are on a different wavelength. We are not human. This is music.
I wonder if everyone else in the world who live their lives void of creating music, are forever blinded.
We have come alive. We have tapped into foreign energy at an ungodly hour.
Nothing can stop us now.