“I remember the blood on the walls. The painting on the wall, it was her, the maiden with the black dress. It was her gaze, her black eyes that looked at me. The red was everywhere. I can’t forget it. I was laying on the floor, anxious and paranoid. And then, I saw hell on the tv screen.
I rise myselfand go to the bathroom. I looked at the mirror and my face wasn’t there. It was the head of an animal, with two long horns. My hearth stopped. I couldn’t look at the mirror. I didn’t wanted to see my inner demon.
My thoughts were rising. Everything was a spiral in my mind. Then I saw a letter that said that sometimes I hallucinate. That my mind was gaining control of me. The tears dropped on the letter. I felt guilty without apparent reason. All I knew was that the letter didn’t lie. Someone special sent it to me on my last day of transformation.
With such innocence, anyone can tell you the truth. That these were my last days of mental freedom. I became colder with my loved ones in one way or another. Since that day, people who knew me didn’t looked at me at the eyes the same way. Yet, I can see my weakness in their eyes. As if I lost a game and the consolation price was isolation.”
This past Friday, October 12, was my anniversary. When darkness happened. When the first set of symptoms triggered. When darkness arrived. I was 16 years old. I still wonder why.
The only worry I had is to get good grades. Making friends wasn’t necessarily a priority. I was a lonely guy. I didn’t mind. I preferred silence. My classmates used to call me “the silent one.” I used to wake up, go to school, ask questions during class, and go home. I had a few friends in my neighborhood. That’s all I needed.
“You’re an outlier,” she told me. “You’ve achieved so much compared to others,” she added. I couldn’t hold it. My eyes started tearing. My voice was cracking. I couldn’t reply to her. I’ve heard that before. Continue reading “Outlier”→
It has been more than a decade since it happened. It was a late October night. I could not fall a sleep, and the red screen of my alarm clock was staring at me. As if the clock was getting ready to do something the moment I closed my eyes.
Then, within the darkness of the four walls that surrounded me and without any announcement, hell imploded from my insides towards the outside realm.
That lonely night stopped being lonely. Now, I had company.
Music has been my emotional release lately. I had tried meditation several times and it does help to reach mental clarity. There is something unique when I am making music, however. I probably have not much experience yet with meditation to fully reach its benefits. I believe it makes me think better when I do it. When I am making music, the uniqueness that happens is that I do not necessarily have to be still, as meditation, to achieve a similar benefit. I consider it an active form of meditation with an immediate feedback. For instance, if I feel anxious, sad, happy, or aggressive emotions just to name a few, I could play something portraying that emotion. Since it is hard sometimes to express what one feels with words, music can mimic to a degree how I feel. Meanwhile, if I decide that I do not want to feel sad, I could attempt to play an idea in a major key, in order to produce something meaningful and diametrically opposite of what I feel at that moment. Doing the latter helps me to do some type of “emotional alchemy” if that makes sense. Transforming one emotion to another one.
On the other hand, one thing to note is that there are periods where I stop doing everything that makes me feel good. For a couple of days, and weeks at worst, I stop being focused. Instead, I get distracted by things that really do not matter, but somehow I focus on them as if they do.
Usually, I become aware of my distraction when it is beyond the initial stage, and it is well established on my environment. First, my bedroom that also serves as my music studio has the strong foundation of a well-organized mess. Second, doing laundry seems a thing I forgot how to do. Then, my fridge is empty at the same ratio that the trashcan is filled of junk food packages. This cycle happens more often that I would like to admit. However, I had found my focus once again. The time of solitude, reflection, and a bad diet has given me some clarity on this matter: I am a creative individual that has not fostered discipline on the self.
It will take time and effort to achieve some type of stability that I could maintain without thinking about it. I recovered some of my focus, and somehow it feels as if I found something rare. I would like to keep it, and do an effort to not lose it again among my organized disorder. I hope, that writing about this will help me consolidate this idea, and also serve as a starting point.
My new EP Uncomfortable Reflections and Other Stories is out now on all streaming platforms.
It was an intimate experience writing and recording this record. It has a lot of meaning for me since I have been in an emotional rollercoaster lately. I hope, that some of the lyrics resonate with others.