It’s funny how when you reach a real low, you gravitate towards the things that make you feel at home — the songs you grew up with, the food you ate, the meals your mom made you, the images and stories that made you feel seen.
Sometimes you just feel a little emo. And you remember why you’re doing this all — the music, the guitar, the writing and expression.
“Roses, roses cold
Roses, roses sold out”
Felt emo. And I’m just living in it.
When I was 15, I just wanted to make music and write. I grew attached to my guitar, my little companion, learning chords and songs, lyrics that expressed my feelings better than I could.
It was an extension of me. In a world I felt I couldn’t verbally express what it is I wanted to say, the written word and the sounds that reverberated through my guitar seemed to do something of its own.
It’s amazing how sacred some albums can be — those directly linked to your childhood, your youth, and the songs that initially lit that fire under you to remind you of why you do this all in the first place.
Thought I’d honor this song with my own take.
…because just like returning home, it makes me feel fifteen again.
With love and honesty,