for the longest time, i thought believed that the one thing that i would never ever give up was music - the whole guitar-laden-wanna-be-songstress part of myself that for the most part kept me sane and happy despite whatever nonsense may pass me by. you see, no matter how insane life got, i knew i would always have my guitar waiting for me at the corner of my room ready to accept me even if others could not. music was my best friend. in fact, for awhile, it was the only friend i had for a long time, especially following my family's relocation back to the Philippines.

i can remember countless nights of me seated on the floor in the middle of my room, alone, consumed in intense joy from stringing together notes randomly plucked in succession from my beloved guitar - lost in a moment that would eventually give birth to melodies forced to embrace lyrics penned from frustrations and lust. those self-imposed moments of isolation, perfecting every single note and word of newly-penned songs, made every late-night spent playing at seedy venues and rubbing shoulders with complete strangers intoxicated with beer and smoke much more worth it; because watching others mouth back the lyrics i wrote or hum the melodies that I sleep to, made me feel like every breathe i took out of this world was for something.

i loved it that much.

but then, as the way it is with life, time catches up; and i now find myself stretched for time, unable to accomplish the things i really want to do - with my senseless work taking up a bulk of my time and energy. this wasn't how i imagined growing old would be. i always imagined myself doing something that i love, something that would not only challenge me everyday but also bring me the intense joy of accomplishment and personal greatness. while i did find that in music, as time went on and the responsibilities of life caught up with me, i eventually found myself allotting less time for my guitar - no longer lured by the symphonies of sound.

and as the months sped forward, with me slaving away in the corporate world and feeling my literary mind crumble to bits, everything i've done music-wise soon became a mere speck in my memory, with the chords and melodies i've written barely making it to the forefront of my mind. in fact, i found myself forgetting how to play chunks of songs i myself had written every part of; and instead of trying my hardest to recall them, i would leave them forgotten, as dusty as my guitar and amp that lies shunned in the corner of my room.

that is not love. choosing to forget is not love.

but maybe it's okay, because while i chose to forget the chords and the melodies, the lyrics i had written, remained in my mind long enough to remind me of something else - another facet of my life that brings me joy: writing. after all, the only way i managed to stay sane in an insanely corporate job environment that requires very little brain cells, was by scribbling down the words swirling in my brain and knitting them together into random scenes of color. those shorts bursts of fiction that came out of me, after a hiatus from fiction writing following my novel-writing-burn-out, made me feel that perhaps i do still have a brain - that it hadn't all leaked out onto the office floor.

it's a different feeling really, and yet oh-so-familiar, and it makes choosing one over the other that much harder; but, sometimes we have to give up something in order to gain much more.

so goodbye, Fairlight Madison; and hello, Graduate School ♥
(please cross your fingers for me and pray that i get accepted to grad school, or this whole post would just be plain silly)