I wrote a song today.
But it wasn’t good enough, so I scrapped it.
It’s too short, I say. It’s not grand enough, I say.
And I deleted it from my view for I didn’t have enough inspirations for it.
I have words in my head.
They sing like angels and gods, they have such big ambitions.
But my hands can’t seem to fulfil their duties, and neither can I.
So I deleted them all from my view for I didn’t have enough inspirations for it.
I try to practise singing from time to time.
It’s never that good, I don’t have a knack for music,
but who said songs have to be musical, right?
Who said stories have to be meaningful?
I wrote a story yesterday.
It moved people, it was a grand display of my capabilities as a writer.
Now I feel the pressure to one-up it, even though I know no one is expecting it.
Call it school trauma if you will.
I wrote a story a few years ago.
I never shared it with anyone, it lived on my computer for approximately 5 minutes.
Then, writing seemed to be so easy for me.
I ignored all the crooked singing.
And who am I to want to create?
My career isn’t art, I’ll never have the critique and skill refinement of a true artist,
I played some videogames and believed myself to be capable of meaning,
and I foolishly wish to aspire others to, now?
So if there’s anything you can take away from my song today, listen closely:
- Don’t repeat this song with melodies and rhythm.
- Don’t recreate this song with your own life.
- Don’t think about it too hard.
- Don’t give away your love.
- Don’t miss the past.
- Don’t give up.
- Don’t regret.
I love you.