There was a time when I devoted myself to music for something.
For wealth.
For recognition.
For the reassurance that it was alright to be myself.
Now I play music that serves no purpose at all.
Strangely, it feels light.
And very free.
Perhaps, back then, I was doing everything for something.
Not only music, but every action, every motivation.
In doing so, I may have kept overlooking this moment called now.
And yet, looking back, I find myself feeling a quiet affection for that desperate version of me.