They Can't See Me, But I'm Still Here

So here we are, literal years later, and I am still here. Writing music, obsessing over music, drowning in music that won't come out, and choking on the music that does. I had a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy, along with some nodules being removed from my voice box. That means that I have not truly sang since November, and here it is February. My speech therapist says that by May, I should be about halfway there if I stay on track.

The songs don't stop coming to my mind, but I can't get them out. I wake up haunted by the stories in my heart.

I'm pent up with things left unsaid...I no longer reach out to my usual touchstone. The side effects have been messy in the past. But I want to... I want to know what I have missed, but I also like to pretend that it doesn't matter. If all we do is complicate things, then it should stay broken... But somehow, it never is.

So I am forcing my voice back into cooperation by sheer will and trying to let the music have it's say.  Use it a a conduit for the things that I do not understand. I don't need it to make sense, I just need it to get outta my head! I've written all of the sunshine that I can about the past. I am exorcising the rotten truth out of me. I am determined to light a match and burn it all down. I used to think that I didn't know what was worse- never seeing you again or seeing you again. I know now.