Lately I've been needing things—anything, one…to hold onto. I've been worried about the state of myself for months now. It's sinister to have to stand aside, and watch as something fails inside you. But to understand yourself, that may be the only thing you can do. To get to the next step, phase, plan, path—whatever is inside of you, it is something remarkable.

A practice I fell in love with this year is remastering my old songs, tossing and turning them sonically to fit not only today's standards, but new ones I find myself never knowing I'd have. It's a beautiful thing to hear a 5-6 year old song have new breaths in them. To pick up on the details I didn't even know I put in, to hear a soundstage that roars beneath it all. It's beautiful, Maybe I am too.

I think losing yourself is a beautiful thing too. As to lose is to have to seek—is to have to find, is to finally piece something together correctly, for once. It's in the inertia, the bearings that make us up. Don't those need proper care? Lubricant? Maybe just a push—or shove in the right direction. I've always found meaning in struggle, and it's different when things become easy. You can form habits there, yourself may even lay there too. And after, may just be continuation. One foot in front of the other, resistance to old ways, a better tomorrow always starts—new.

Whatever is inside of you—a fluidity to cave towards spasmodic weight, beliefs of betterment from words that are atonal still, or a foundation that needs just water…and time, as it billows up inside of you, it becomes more of you. So let it, Let it happen, Let you succumb to flashes of an aura.

One that you didn't know could sing so softly,

One that you didn't know was just—you

All along.