December 17, 2002

• “And if you reach for me. I may not choose to hold your hand. I might smile, or I might turn away.” ~ Quidam from Cirque du Soleil
  

  
  

  There have always been two static things in my life, rising above my capricious tendencies, abetting to my every excursion. Namely, when cowardice claims my thoughts, I flee. I escape into words, and I abscond to the even less fathomable, but perhaps more beautiful… Music. Always have I loved music. I remember being eight-years-old, turning off all the lights, turning up the stereo and staring at the lit buttons until they blurred onto the fringe between reality and illusion. The darkness swallowed me as music stole me away as their hostage. That feeling…that grand feeling of being elsewhere, in a world full of lilt notes. Where it is one minute surreal, the next jaunty…but always, always so intangibly beautiful. Gods…sometimes I think that’s all I need in this life. It is all I need. A pen and music. It feels like they are drawing swivels all around me. Music writes, just as words composes…it’s so beautiful, so beautiful…just so beautiful to the point where I’m without words. How I long to be able to yield an instrument at my own will. To be able to contrive music notes and make them sing, dance, write. To float in perpetual space, dreaming away the baggage in life… Everything tastes so sweet here, like sugar coated deception climbing onto my tongue. I could taste the rhythm as the melody pulsate…sometimes it tastes like tears though, salted tears…but I will still be there, emotions spoon fed to me. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to make sense of things anymore. I want to keep the same oblivious smile I had before, the times when I dreamt of flying than my arms slit and bleeding. Take me away. I believe in you. Only you can heal me.
  

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