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Smoking Gifts
Category: Life
The ravages I've inflicted on my voice have been
quite traumatic for me. I think back on the bell-like
quality that was once mine as a singer and compared to
what I have today would be as comparing porcelain to
rusted tin. I can't feel badly about it. I know that.
What's done is done. I made my choices and who's to know
if given the same opportunities that I wouldn't have
made the decision to smoke even then? All I know is what
I am now. Somewhat of an outcast to many for my choice.
I'm no longer a singer. I suffer in an all so necessary
way. But instead of ending my life, I have found a new
love. The love of writing.
Talent can come and talent can leave. Gifts are there
to stay unless we piss them away.
Something inside me is more in touch with the
artistic side of life. It's not genius, but it is pure.
So no matter what is taken from me or whatever I have
thrown away, the need to create always remains.
I'm like so many of you. We want what's best for
those around us, but so often miss what is there for
ourselves. When I feed myself. I write. It is my very
own. I hold it deep within me and feel it in my
breast.
Today. I am yours'. I linger close to your keys. I
tap them slowly and without pain. My smoke is rising in
the air, as incense to all despair. Love endures.
When I sang, I had fear. I wanted so desperately to
feel as deeply as I do now and sing these emotions from
deep within. Singing in front of millions had once been
my dream. But today, I sit in front of this monitor and
can only recall to strangers passing by, as would a
corner evangelist, "If you value your gift, your gift
will value you."
1:22 PM - 33 Comments - 27
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I was shooting
for cheesy.
