I have been with me all my life. So just like most everyone, my perception of things is muddled because my perspective is singular to me.
It has taken me some time to learn that not everyone is as creative as I am. I can only wonder at their thoughts. My mind is constantly full of sounds, visions, harmonies, dissonances. I want to share them with the world.
As I get older, and I go through the inventory of my influences, I am realizing that I am running out of time, and that my base of skills hasn't improved nearly enough. There are so many things I wanted to share with the world, and I must accept that I will never able to do so.
Mortality is on my mind because I've been talking with my father, who this morning offered such insights as "progressive means the same as communism" and "the government wants to put you in jail for saying 'n_____'."
(Earlier today, I have had a brief existential crisis as I considered my life-long relationship with this man.)
My father has less time left on this earth than I do. I suspect that what he really wants to do is spend his days on travel, not wile away in his house waiting for the plague to pass.
I can only speak for me. I'm becoming more and more aware that I have less and less time, and I surely hope that I do not become something hateful. I cannot let these forces destroy me. I must be strong.