The One Thing

I’m a failure. I’m unhappy. I have to aim higher. This is what people tell me because when they look at me, they think that I could do so much better. From my family to my relatives to my closest friends, I assume they say this because they think their own lives are way much better than mine. They give out a lot of advices, telling me that I should look for a steady job and raise a family. They tell me they only want what’s best for me. Come now, wouldn’t that be grand?

But what if what they want is none of what I want?

I’ve been there before. I had a job, had a girl whom I thought was “the one”, but a big chunk of me was pulling me away from all that. There was always this nagging feeling that there was something lacking in my seemingly perfect picture. It was telling me that I belong somewhere else. That I should be doing something else.

“Please stop loving me! I am none of these things.”

It was only when I’m immersed in music that I feel complete. If I’m listening to it, if I’m playing it or creating it, these are the only times I feel so powerful; that I am capable of majesty. When I come across a great song, it feels like I’m with someone who understands what I am. It feels like I’m talking to a kindred.

And so I pursued my passion. I gave up everything I’ve ever known and dove head first into the raging uncertainty. All I was armed with was my guitar, and my only ammunition was a heartful of hope.

“If I fail/ if I succeed/ at least I lived as I believe.”

And now here I am 5 years later with nothing to show for all my efforts, pennyless and without a significant other. Yet it don’t seem to touch me at all. I am immersed in music, and that is all that matters.

“And that’s all you are? A musician?”

“I got one thing. Same as you.”

“Really? Well, apparently you know me better than I know you.”

“I know that limp. I know the empty ring finger. And that obsessive nature of yours- that’s a big secret. You don’t risk jail and your career to save somebody who doesn’t want to be saved unless you got something- anything- one thing. The reason normal people got wives and kids and hobbies, whatever. That’s because they ain’t got that one thing that hits ‘em that hard and that true. I got music, you got- this- the thing you think about all the time. The thing that keeps you south of normal. Yeah. Makes us great. Makes us the best. All we miss out on is everything else.”

I can’t say that what they say about me doesn’t affect me. Truthfully, it hurts like hell. But it’s not because I’m insulted by what they’re saying; it's because they don’t understand. And God knows I tried to make them understand.

“They did not listen, they’re not listening still. Perhaps they never will.”

It pains me that those of my own flesh and blood cannot understand me. It pains me that the only solace I can find is in a song. But in the end, the opinion that really matters is that which I have of myself. Three things I know for a fact: I am successful, I am Happy, and there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be.