I wrote on the last page of my journal today. The first entry was dated October 19, 2014. It’s a thick notebook, but shouldn’t have held two years’ worth of a writer’s entries. I’ve just written so little over the past two years that it all fit in this one book.

Earlier this week, I took note of all the prior entries. I commented to my co-writer that I’d pretty much written only sad and pitiful lyrics and poems. I couldn’t find a single page on which I’d written happy words.

This last entry today is quite fitting for such a joy-less journal. What started out two years ago with an ode to other musicians ends today with determination to be who I’m meant to be:

 

This One Life

 

I once met Convenience and Fear

Two skilled and mouthy menaces

They hide and chatter in my ear

Bitter and broken words of a nemesis

 

The old fools try to keep me stuck

Telling me to stay in my comfort zone

Never do they suggest I try my luck

Or venture out on my own

 

They stalk my soul like a woman scorned

Bound to make me cave and comply

They threaten, scold and warn

There are consequences if I defy

 

But I’ll be damned if they conquer me

I must explore the mysterious magic

My spirit demands to be free

Or else this one life will be tragic