The Story

It was nothing until it was everything.

Music and

breathing and

living and –

so much…

Falling as easy as being alive;

blurring the lines and finding it more beautiful than

anything I’ve ever created.

Thankful.

It was everything

until it was nothing.

Just silence and

drowning and

existing and –

never enough…

Pulling the drapes closed and the curtains down

not knowing till I was stumbling around in the dark

waiting for applause that never came.

Forgetful.

Starting to fall asleep,

lulled into the nightmarish daydream:

a paradoxical bitter-sweet guilty pleasure that

always ends the same way.

A little too honest?

No picket fences?

No cheap applause?

Every story has a beginning…

but it’s only a means to its end.