If I were to die today, I would become a haunting spirit

I have so much in me that I don’t like.

I have so many promises made to myself I have failed to fulfil.

I often wonder why my body is so frightened when it comes to making music. Like a reflex from previous harmful stimuli, I approach it as a hand reaching a burning stove. It has come to me the thought that maybe, my nature is not wrong in resenting this hobby of mine. At last, when standing on top of a high building, it is not a fake perception telling me not to jump but my objective knowledge of the incapability of my body to fly. Maybe, something similar happens with me and music.

How many times has the bell of surrender sounded loudly inside my head just for me to ignore it? I wonder, at each turn, what was it that made me ignore it? True passion for the craft? A sense of not leaving a dream die? The face of the void staring back at me, filled with questions I do not know how to reply? The only constant is my lack of certainty.

Now the starting point has aged underneath my shoes, and I still seem to not have moved a step past it. I have grown so bitter, so resentful, sad, and scared.

I wonder if going back in time would have brought me a different situation, or Would it have been a much tougher, rougher realisation that would have found me at this age, completely crushing me?

I remain here, for I cannot think about anything else. Whether that’s a blessing or a curse I’m unaware, but now as it stands, if I had to put money on it, I’d choose the latter.