Teenage Fallacy

Saying goodbye is not about quitting while you’re ahead. Because you can’t quit once you’ve been fired. It’s about that one last kick in the guts, about admitting that you were wrong. Giving up on a dream is about failure. You can't say ‘I was right, everything was on offer but I decided not to’. It’s a lie. That is the very definition of denial.
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I want to say goodbye, I want to get rid off all of this. But how am I doing that? How do you know? How am I expressing that? Through my writing. I’m not writing you a song. I do not have a head full of melodies. I have a head full of words. “All art aspires to the condition of music.” A famous quote. And so true. I am a writer in love with music. The best thing I could do is continue to sing, and not feel ashamed of my voice. It would be so much braver of me not to crumple into a heap in my singing lessons, sharing my pain and suffering all over the place, acting like I am putting on this big effort to be where I am. Sing because it is a human thing to do. Because it's fun and I sound like anybody else. That is my new dream. To be at terms with that, to enjoy singing for what it is.

But it's not fair. There is something in me. A demon that needs to be exorcised. Something that haunts me. Makes me think in lyrical terms so when I think I wish I could forget about this. I am brought back to... a song whose title I can't even fucking remember, and maybe that's progress. But the point is there’s a line in that song, which rings in my head “the past will forget about us, we'll forget about it” – ah, ‘Run To The Bridge’, that’s what it’s called. When he brings up Dylan all I can think off is ‘The Only True Reflection’. Do I burn them? Truly? I mean it would discourage me enough, and my memory is pretty shot. I don't think I could ever remember all the words. Or be bothered trying, more to the point. Or is something compelling me to share them? Is this why I cannot forget? Maybe he was right. When I told him about my sadness at the thought of the songs never seeing the light of day, he said: greatness always finds a way. Quickly followed by perhaps it’s just a teenage thing. Teenage fallacy. He pointed out that I’m still young enough count it as such. And it's true. But I always wanted to think that I was better than that. That the songs were better than that. Alas the ego is a much further reaching problem than I could have imagined. What is art without ego? What is the point of art – to show other people how you see the world, if you never show anyone? Answer me that. What will I fucking think of this in 10 years time? What will I fucking care? Will I be any different for having done it? Would I know the difference? Will the 28 year old me be a different person for having written songs when she was 15? Having done something with them? Having not? And so I turn to others. And they say, no. This is a teenage thing. This is what we all do in the lead up to becoming accountants. Only those with talent make it. And in the immortal words of my singing teacher, you my friend – ain't got it.
Relapse.
Teenage fallacy.
Maybe my ear is fucked.
Maybe I can't even hear it when I'm wrong. I truly believed what I sung was OK. But it wasn't, even he said so. Even he tried to be kind about it. Had to be kind about it. Everyone around me is just feeling sorry for me and trying to keep out of the way. I don't think he's always in tune either, but then again he probably is. I'm just full of “hate and spite and lies” as another song puts it. I want to annihilate myself on it. I don't want to go out with a whimper, I don't want to be fired and slink off down the fire escape. I want to go out with a bang. I want to tell my boss what I’ve always thought of her, because now I have nothing to lose.

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