I, uh, tried.

I had a friend in college who often said that, “trying implies failure,” which has its uses, but isn’t entirely correct. There is so much in this world that we cannot control; in a sense all we can do is try.

It may be regrettable to spend my life working in a field that is not my absolute favorite thing, but I don’t usually worry about regrets. I believe that regrets have less to do with the past, and much more to do with being in a state of mind to regret things. So I mostly trust that when I’m older, I’ll be able to make peace with how I’ve spent my life.

I may feel jealousy–even a flash of hatred–when I see others garnering accolades for their creative work. There’s a hissing snake in my head that spits venom in their general direction for their accomplishments. There’s a plant in my chest that withers when the spotlight is permanently directed at someone else. And there’s a small voice in my soul that wonders endlessly about trees falling in forests. About the artwork that exists only inside my mind, and the loneliness it brings me.

Whether I spend my life gritting my teeth at the universe, or laying in the field watching the clouds go by, I’m going to die. I didn’t ask to be here, and no one gave me the rules of the game.

All this is to say that I’m giving up on trying to become a professional musician. I was happier and got more enjoyment out of music when it was just a hobby. My life feels unbalanced. I think I’d like to spend more time feeling the sun on my face and less time chasing the spotlight. You know? I can follow my muse instead of dragging it behind me on a leash, because I don’t need to plan where we go.

I’ve written a lot of blogs over the past handful of months that I haven’t posted because I was worried about what other people would think. But hey I’m not commercial anymore so whoop tea do!!


Riley Hawke