I still find it amazing that with a wave of a finger,
a few strokes and a simple idea,
I can create something.
It's not new to me, I've been creating since I was three.

Drawing, writing, building, breathing, planning, hoping, creating. Repeat.

But there's always been this suppressing force,
telling me no, I can't, I'm not supposed to.
From the teachers who told me I shouldn't
paint my parents blue and my brothers green,
or that history is not important.
By others who have treaded just a step on the path
and turned back, and said that I could never get farther.
By even my friends and family telling me I had to go to school,
get a degree and be content working a 9-to-5.

But I'm here to tell you that all of this has fear written all over.

It's something the human condition has created to hide behind.
the fear to face failure, the fear to accept differences, the fear to put effort for a better version of self. We had developed fear to survive.

But who do we fear today? Who do we have to survive from today with fear?

Like Roosevelt's words "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.
Nameless. Unreasoning. Unjustified terror." Non-existant.

I'd like to remind you that we are creators, not consumers.
They say we were created in his image, in all his intelligence and light.
Although I don't practice a certain common religion,  the following quote reminds me of the infinite possibilities viable in this life.
God formed man from the dust and gave him life by sharing His own breath.
Don't lose that breath, don't gather dust.
Shake the dust. Enjoy that first morning breath every day.
Because you are alive and a beautiful creator.
The architect is the constant gardener.

I sit and stall late at night
When I can't sleep,
Hoping I hear your voice,
Waiting up to see if you call.

But I know that's not gonna happen,
Your heart sings out for another.
Even though it does, I'm still all yours.
Every last bit.

My friends hate it, my mother hates it, my other friends laugh at it,
But you know what?

I don't care. Cause if I did, then I probably didn't really love you.
But I do.

But what does it matter? Loving you has helped and killed me.
You will never know that, because I will never tell you.

And we'll grow old together
And spend time fighting and fixing and fighting and fixing.
But you'll call me an angel, a friend, a brother. Nothing more. Angel.

And you will never ask why I do the things I do for you,
Because maybe you're afraid to know the honest truth.
Maybe the truth you've known from the beginning.
Cause not one person has done what I've done for you.
I will always want you, always.

I wish I was drunk, high, ****** when I wrote this,
This little piece of me, this little mess in me. Written sober.

And while the world is all quiet and sleeping their lives away,
I live mine awake thinking of you.
I sincerely *Love you. Good night.

Love doesn't have a face,
but it sure does have a mouth.
Love is every name and taste,
yes it can taste like mace sometimes.
Love is every shape and color,
including the birthmark on her foot.
Love doesn't have a favorite race or a caller,
it doesn't have a preference or a mother.
It's definitely worth more than any dollar.

Love can also kick your ***,
it can leave a lump in your throat.
Especially when its not your lover.
Love can make you scream,
it can also help you do stupid things.
Bold and stupid like coke and coffee.

Love can really fill you up,
Like a cop with a box of doughnuts.
Love can also leave you empty,
Like a fat kid struck a straw to your heart
and ****** the milkshake out of it.
It can push you to chase the impossible,
Like how the candle has been chasing the sun for so long.

Even if she is something you can't live without,
but you have to let go.

You're left with photographs to remind you of that
sloppy morning lion's mane she always wore.

You're left with the recorded covers she sung in front of you
all out of tune.

You're left with the words she spoke to you
stuck in your head.

You may even remember the time she forgot your birthday.
Or catch yourself walking for miles with her name in your head.

But.

You're left with a history of memories, emotions, a funny story and love,
that only you and her know of and no one, not even her, can take them.

Oh I could listen to you for hours,
Let you lead me through story after story.
I can hear your pain.
See the scenes you paint.
Even feel the love you claim.

A soothing calmness grows in me.
Like everything will be alright.
Just because you looked me straight in the eye
and said I love you.

You sell love in every syllable and phrase.
Like it did exist, like you would not have kissed.
Like you would love me but not like this.

Because you're not selling love,
I thought I loved life and the world.
But then I met you and realized that I didn't.

That if I did, it would be comparing a candle to the sun.
You are the sun and unconditional love.

You are the way melody and rhythm go together in songs.
You are the notes and chords these words ring for so long.
You make crowds sing love in their hymns,
and leave every single one of them shaking with goose skin.

You are the quiet cry that goes unheard in the night.
Of every hurting soul and body that hears your voice for the first time.
Because they forget all of their miserable nights
and feel for the first time what love sounds like.

So don't tell me your music and lyrics don't inspire love.
I fell apart when I heard your voice for the first time.
I fell apart when you said I could not have your love in a single line
and now I'm empty with just your voice replaying online.

You are my morning alarm that delicately awakens me
and my last thought at night that follows me into slumber.

You are the girl that sings to the broken masses in the dark.
While they chant your name in different harmonies apart.

I am the one in love that can't explain.
Why these words come out untamed.
The reason why her love flows through these veins.
Why she was the reason our world changed.

Its around this time,
That I stay up and just stare at the prickly ceiling,
just laying in bed with a cold empty feeling.
Even though I have three layer of sheets on top of me.

Its around this time,
That I start thinking about how things would be different.
If I could just stop thinking about her.

I've tried swallowing, stomping, and burying that love,
that idea, that thought, that desire.
But it just won't give up and it won't go down.
It's unhealthy loving something that hurts you,
something that won't happen,
something that won't return to bed at night.
But its also reckless to let go of everything you ever wanted.

If you find something special, hold on to it.
Hold on to it with everything you got and never let go.
Enjoy the ride because it'll be a long one with ups and downs.
and love the hell out of that special something.

Because life can take her away from me,
but life can't take the love out of me.
I'm just holding on to her forever.
She is my lifelong disease.

For an hour on my drive to school at night,
When the music and headlights come on,
For that hour I'm a rock star.
If you stop and stare even better,
and I'd congratulate you because you are my audience.
I'm the drummer, singer, bassist, piano player and guitarist,
Hell I'm even the guy playing with lights back stage.

But as soon as I park and get out of my car,
I'm not a singer, I'm not a musician and
I'm certainly tone deaf.
Yeah I'm a resenting has been and ex-husband,
I don't eat, sleep or **** but writing is what keeps me sober these days.
Singing is what keeps my mind off the time,
and music what keeps me off the lines.

I used to give out ratings.
Now I keep the words to myself
and if my opinion is asked of me,
I just give them the simple half.
Let them figure out what's missing,
the way I found out what I was needing.

I may not make a mill next year,
or be able to pay the bills this month.
But I will be recognized for the things that are
put on billboards and on your bedroom walls.
I will be known for the message you wear everyday,
and for giving a face to the girl that sings in the dark on stage
and plays in your car all day.

But for just this hour I'm just a simple rock star.

There are days I wake up empty and alone,
and I notice the half page written note,
left sitting on my bed.

It's not a thank you or a goodbye note,
Its not an I hate you or I love you note either.
"I'm sorry" scrawled across the page is what's written.
It suits you and your childlike heart.
It's how you've done your apologies,
for the past eight years.

I'm just waiting for the day,
you'd come back.