Truthfully, I don’t want to appear to be something I’m not. I’m not a prodigy, a master of anything, or an expert of any sort, and I have the bank account to prove it. I am creative, this I know. I fill my life with the pursuit of happy art and instant wealth. I do well with the former, I’ve yet to even break the surface with the latter. That’s a pity, indeed. You’ll find me sketching, painting, building something. I fancy myself a photographer, but the “pros” would never let me call myself that. There I am designing a shirt… but then there it is hanging in the closet. Strange how these passions seem to be mere hobbies. I think they’d be more if they actually could help me sustain living. So, I scheme. Non-stop. Scheming of a mogul-built empire of all things art and flowing with cash. Scheming, unfortunately, is all it has amounted to, so far.
Then, there’s the part I don’t fancy. The part where I sleep until the middle of the day, where I lay on the couch for hours, where I stare at a computer screen for no particular reason. It’s odd how someone as driven as I am can be a complete slug at times. I am the tidiest slob you’ll ever meet. I’ll cook you the most delicious meal you’ve tasted, yet I’ll leave the dishes for you to clean up.
I’m ugly and I’m beautiful. I’m a genius, yet a moron. I’m sensitive, but I’m a huge jerk. I love everyone, but I hate most people. I wear my heart on my sleeve, but I won’t share anything with you. I’m passionate, but can chill a room in an instant. I’m blessed beyond measure, but I am greedy and want more than I’ll ever have.
And I write songs about all of this. I hope you'll keep coming back to listen.
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