It is the writer's privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart.
Some days I care. Some days I don't. Some days I try my hardest to work within the confines of the system. Some days I think the system is the enemy and I pick up my rebel pen and write what will likely never be heard. Some days I embrace my place in the world and some days I am so green with envy I could play Elphaba without an ounce of makeup. Some days I thank God He made me a writer. Other days I curse the journey.
I've made a very bad living (okay, a decent part time job) out of writing things people want to hear. Songs I truly believe people need to hear. And I am genuinely grateful for that. I just don't think people want to hear that stuff all the time. I think there are days people want someone to enter into their sadness or frustration or pain and express it in ways they don't know how to on their own. I don't want to live, or write, every second in that world, but I can't deny the therapeutic value of getting those thoughts out of my system in the hope I am not alone.
I haven't found a place in the world for those songs. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe it's just here. I really don't know. I only know that when I hit "post" on this blog a small weight will be off my shoulders. I have wrestled with whether or not that's okay and I guess the fact you're now reading this means I decided it is. So, here you go.
I wish I was always an overflowing fount of positivity and grace and joy. I pray for the day I will be. Today, however, you get to see this - the ongoing struggle with my humanity. For better or worse, this is how I feel today. Just a mess of a work in progress who is longing for better days.
The Ghost of Us
I walked out and closed the door
Don’t go back there anymore
But now and then I hear a sound
And I can’t help but turn around
Take a breath and drop your guard
Start to think you’ve come so far
Step by step into the light
But shadows don’t give up the fight
Most of us are living with the ghost of us
And hope no one will notice us
Dancing in the dark
Could it be the war with this humanity
Is just the way it has to be
As long as we have scars
Yesterday is gravity
The pull that leaves us questioning
If we can trust the promises
That it won’t always feel like this
Tell me it won’t always feel like this
The break, the bleed
The want, the need
The proof that we
Are not where we are meant to be