Invisible String

Chapter 5 -The Song

The piano keys dance beneath the tips of my fingers, as if they're eager to unleash the melody that's been locked in my mind since last night.

I play and replay until the song, the one that's been echoing in my head since dawn, comes to life in the studio.

After spending the whole day with my folks, I decided to sneak off to my sanctuary: the recording studio. For hours, I've been fixated on a melody I've never heard before, one that feels different, unique, unlike anything I've composed before.

I grabbed my notebook, the haven for my most intimate thoughts, and began sketching out some tweaks to the lyrics. This song is special; I've been brewing it for months, in those moments of solitude during my travels around the world.

In every line, I poured out a piece of my soul, all those conflicting feelings that have danced in my heart: sadness, anger, happiness. This song speaks to the pursuit of perfection for someone else, of getting lost in the process and yearning for freedom and authenticity.

I wear a million masks, to hide the real me inside 

Afraid to show my flaws, afraid of what they'll find 

But beneath it all, I'm just a soul in need 

Searching for acceptance, longing to be freed...

Though the lyrics are still taking shape, I feel the excitement bubbling in my chest as I return to the studio for the next project. Whether it's for my own album or another artist's, this place is where I feel alive.

I consider myself more of a lyricist than a singer. My lyrics are my voice, my way of expressing what the world often overlooks. I know how to bare my soul in them, and that's something my audience values.

I'm not who they think they see 

Looks of expectation, all eyes on me 

Sad and unsure, I'm reaching for a hand 

In this world of illusions, who would I be?

As I continue to work on the song, each chord progression and lyrical tweak feels like a step closer to capturing the essence of my emotions. The studio becomes my cocoon, shielding me from the noise of the outside world as I pour my heart into the music.

Growing up, my obsession with crafting my own songs knew no bounds. I'd spend hours lost in the melodies swirling through my mind, each one a story waiting to be told. But it wasn't just about creating something from scratch; I had a knack for transforming existing songs, breathing new life into them with completely rewritten lyrics.

I'd sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor, surrounded by stacks of CDs and notebooks filled with scribbled verses. With a trusty pen in hand, I'd pore over the lyrics of my favorite songs, dissecting them like a literary surgeon. Then, armed with inspiration and imagination, I'd set to work, reshaping each line until it fit the narrative of my own creation.

After doing that, I'd eagerly put on a show for my family, turning our living room into a makeshift stage. With makeshift microphone in hand, I'd belt out my newly crafted tunes, pouring my heart and soul into every word.

My family, bless their hearts, would gather around, cheering me on as if I were performing for a sold-out stadium. They'd clap and sing along, indulging my childhood dreams of stardom with unwavering support.

And as I stood there, basking in the glow of their adoration, I truly believed I was destined for greatness. In my mind, I was the most famous and acclaimed five-year-old singer the world had ever seen.