For some reason, I’ve being consistently struck with the desire to make music whenever my soul leaves my body. Okay, so here we go again with “I wonder why is that?” Though I have my own explanation and I’m actually curious about exploring the notion. It’s simply Neptune. Grief anchors you to the earth and prohibits you to enter the heavens. The alternative? Music. Somehow, the overwhelming pain is the only potent antidote in stopping me from being my default analytical self. I can guinea pig myself to death and I can actually fucking find the answers. I don’t know exactly how I do that either but I always find the answers on my own. And pain, only pain can get me out of this and for me to finally do something.

It’s hard to accept and as much as I want to be more artistic, it took billion years for scattered nebula to finally form into something tangible. It took million of years for life to start cultivating in landless earth. All this shit won’t only demand for one life for it to make sense…all lives that are present here now might not even be enough sacrifice for it to reveal its purpose. It’ll only end after it fulfills it mission. What do we do for the time being? What do I fuckin’ do aside from the inevitable and accept the fact that it’s all supposed to happen?

This is the reason why I don’t want to write. Can’t I just simply be angry and full of hatred and despise everything? Because that’s the only thing I want to do right now.