Ever since I was young, music had always called my name. I started playing the guitar at the age of five and the piano at the age of seven. I loved hearing new music, learning how to play it and making up excuses to perform it to anyone who would listen. The sounds of the rhythm would sink to the beat of my heart as I listened to or played anything new. One of the best things about learning new music was the amount of patience I had with it. It brought me joy, excitement, and even frustration at times, but it was all worth it to be able to produce something new in my own way. Those emotions filled me with waves that I will never be able to forget and would do anything to feel again; especially since I don’t play music anymore.
I was never really sure of what had happened, but somehow the love and passion I had for music was just kind of lost. I had played for 12 years, and all of a sudden, during my junior year of high school it all stopped. Normally I would come home from school and practice new songs and write music, but slowly it started to fade. I would tell my parents that I never had the time anymore or that I just “didn’t feel like it”. In all honesty, that wasn’t the case at all.
I think sometimes there comes a time when you’ve been doing something for so long that it no longer seems to be a hobby. Music consumed my whole life at that point. Everything I was doing involved my music in some way, shape or form. My head was filled with what I would do next with the music I made or how I would try and recreate something to make it my own, and it was just never escaping my state of being. It got to the point where I was more tired of my life revolving around what I wanted to do with music rather than feeling eager and excited about it.
On one hand, I absolutely loved writing and playing everything I made, but on the other hand, it took away from me enjoying everything else in my life. I mean, I played softball, I had a job, I had a boyfriend and I was experimenting with other hobbies; however, it just never felt the same as when I surrounded myself with music. Somewhere along the line, I reached that conclusion. I realized that I never felt like myself unless it was with music, and that’s when my love for it came to a halt. After realizing that my entire life was consumed by this obsession, I didn’t want to play instruments or write music anymore. All I wanted to do was find a way to be happy with more than one aspect of my life.
It’s not like I don’t play anything at all anymore, it’s more like I realized the control it had over me. So, I did what anyone would do, and I took a break– a very, very long break. I don’t write music anymore, but I will occasionally still play. Obviously, it’s not the same as it once was. I don’t get the rush of emotions I had before; instead, I get the feeling of reminiscence, which brings me pride and happiness. There was a point in time where my love and passion for music weren’t controlling me, and that’s what I like to remember. I don’t have any regrets about choosing to take a break. If anything, I’m proud because it made me realize that not all passions are meant to be forever.