My sister once told me that she rarely heard me talk about my personal pains, sorrows or strong emotions in person, but whenever she listened to my music, she could feel it all.
Admittedly, as I think back, the memories that flood my mind prove her statement to be correct. I typically held a sunny disposition, frightened to conjure up the sea of emotions stuck deep in my chest, god forbid, in front of someone else.
But with the music it was easy. Right from the very start. Picking up a pencil and spilling my secrets (vaguely and poetically mind you), finding a way to release my life’s questions, guilts, heartaches and regrets. It was like it was always meant to be.
For these reasons (and for some I can’t explain) I do feel very deeply when I write music, when melodies flow through the words like they were created to coexist.
It holds meaning. I pour the contents of my soul into the music and that, I believe, is what makes it special.
I want that meaning, that authenticity to touch people. To help others to grasp their emotions in the way only music can.
I want my music to be something that could propel you through your worst heartbreak in a car ride on a summer night, or a way for you to connect with a part of yourself you could never explain.
Making music is a part of me, and I want to share that part of me with the world because the way I see it, we all carry our songs, dreams and memories inside of us, I just have a way to express them out loud.
“The Color of Waves”