New Delhi, India.
I know I’m not the man You created me to be. Mind full of doubt, heart full of hate, and a body that knows nothing but lust and fatigue. I know I’m not the man I was supposed to be. For everything I try to do right, seems I waltz around doing three things wrong. Every time my soul stirs awake out of the slumber of my times and my eyes gleam and my pen sighs with pleasure at the sight of an empty page, all that remains when I’m through is another twisted little song or a now sad empty page. Of all the sins that man can commit, I’m guilty of the worst of them, not realizing my full potential. It’s easy coasting along being ever just so slightly above the norm. I could go higher, I could hug and kiss the sky and dance back down on moon beams. I could make this world better. I can make anyone I know laugh until they cry and yet, often, all I want to do is stay in my apartment and sit alone moping about being lonely and unwanted.
I know my apple fell very far from the tree and rolled way the fuck down the hill. To quote the divine Leonard Cohen, “there is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the Light gets in.” And I can feel it tonight. I can feel the blessings.
Dear Life, I love you. Thank you for keeping the faith, even when I couldn’t.
Here I come. They don’t know me yet. But they mudderfugging about to find out.