This is me

It all started one frosty Christmas morning around 2AM. I crept out of my bedroom to discover that Santa had left me a brand new acoustic guitar. I don’t believe in destiny, but the moment I picked up that six string, I knew what I was here for. Not every moment can be as warm and fuzzy as Christmas morning, so let’s fast forward a bit.

I am supposed to write a bio here, but I’m terrible at that. So here’s my adaptation:

Born out of the brackish waters of the Chesapeake Bay, I am a hapless nostalgist, reaching for the past to carry me away. I’m filled with deep emotion, grit, and soul, wistful of what’s not, and scared to grow old. What is this world we live in, full of spite, ridicule, and sin? I write about it to soothe my rage somewhere deep within.

Venturing out at night, I wrap myself in the moonlit blanket. Comforted by the darkness pulling me in like a magnet. Home is under a deep-rooted tree, conjuring feelings amidst a cemetery. With the spirits, I’ll share a bottle of red wine, scripting their story in my mind as we dance to the record of their rhythm and rhymes.

I fight for what I believe in with a bluntness, leaving no doubt to my intentions. Yet I am haunted by my passions, the history of my ancestors, the future of us, and romantic infections. Fear aside, I refuse to hide. We can change this world as the moon does the tides.

So onward I will march into the darkness while others tread gently into the light. For this is where I belong and I welcome you to the ride… all aboard the train to Windy Hill.

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