June 27, 2013

Dear Johnny,

Music.  That’s what I’ve been thinking about lately.

It’s funny how music can sometimes read my mind.  I’ve been having all of these thoughts lately that I can’t seem to express and then I hear a song that just nails it.  I wish I was a song writer sometimes so that I could put my heart to music.  I’ve been downloading music like crazy trying to find the perfect song that says everything in my head, but I haven’t found one yet.  All this music makes me miss singing.  I used to be really good and I still think I’m alright.  I’ve always wanted to be in a band or learn to play the guitar so I can make my own music to sing along with.

I remember watching you play guitar, your fingers swiftly picking the steel strings and sending melodies up into the air and out into the universe.  I wish you could teach me.  I might be able to resolve some of these thoughts I have, these issues that seem to swirl around in my brain at every moment.

That’s what music does.  It heals, but it also hurts or at least reminds us of hurt.  I try to use it for happiness or when I have no words to express myself.  Yet, I wonder how it is possible that I run out of words since all I seem to do is write.  Letters, mostly, to you and now here. It’s been so long, 11 years now, but you won’t leave my heart.  Is that normal?

You know, it’s funny because we have really spent so little time together.  Maybe that’s why words work, or at least soothe the edge where you’re concerned.  All we’ve ever had is words.  My words etched on paper sent across the country.  Your words whispered over a telephone wire.  Our words tapped out over cyberspace only to dissolve into black and white trapped behind blocked walls.

Is it all worth it? You lie either to me or to yourself with the words that walk out of your mouth, yet I cannot seem to shake you.  Hours, pages, dreams, ink–all in vain. Wasted on someone who cannot admit his heart to himself let alone me.

So why can’t I stop?

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