I’m new to this, but not new to the idea of sharing too much. I’m the one who belted Heavier Things to my shower head this morning, thus telling it that “someday I’ll soar.” (And I will.) I live musically, but without talent. When home alone, I can’t help but turn my elementary-school boombox up to it’s maximum to feel the beat pulsing through my body. My eyes instantly close as if in praise, but not consciously. My toes tap to the beat of the drum, my fingers move to the string changes of the guitar, even though I know none of them. My voice knows how to accurately sing a tune but not in a way that’s beautiful enough to be different. I live musically, without the talent.
This is only one of me. There are countless more, each one a dichotomy of another, much like Oregon weather. Today I’m Mayer, tomorrow I’m Cudi. Today I can’t spot a cloud in the sky, but tomorrow it may downpour. The next day I’m Austen, and the following I’m Prefontaine. But only in my mind, because in reality, I always fall short.
How’s that for sharing too much?
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