I’m different.

I’m different.

The moment starts very sloooooooooooooowly.

…..

I can feel the pressure in my chest and up to my eyes.

…..

Tears stream down my face and as my sorrow surrenders, I am relieved.
I am  l o s t.
When I finally
reached
the
bottom, I felt like there was no way

for me to go.

I felt like there was        no one        in the entire world that will ever understand.
The drums starts beating faster.  My breathe unsettled.
I quickly search through my inventory of emotions and equip reason.
I equip myself with facts and truths.

And after all the FRUSTRATion and all the ANGer that escapes me, I run towards the door,  I hear the violins stringing loudly and intensely.  I feel my heart beating OUT of me wanting… something.

Anything. 

And then I reach my limit.

I heard the drums sloooooooooooooooooooooow down.  I heard the piano keys slow down to
one
note
at
a
time.
And then, I hear nothing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I just look across my view and there’s this silence.  There’s this calm.  There’s the world and I’m here and I’m ALIVE.  I see what I’ve seen everyday of my life.  But it’s different.
I’m different.

*I suggest you listen to the voices of Glen Hansard or Mumford & Sons as you read this because their voices carry a beauty and tragedy of life like no other.

Feeling inspired by the music, by the moment and by the memories.  There’s something really amazing out there.  There’s something really magical when someone else’s voice can conjur something so strong and heartbreaking and so real.  We’re all trying.  Listen very carefully.  This is a visual dialogue. cnw

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