To Be More Than Human
by Noise Pollution
I often see my favorite musicians obsessed over. I’ve done it myself, to an extent, though it has slowed as I’ve gotten older. It’s just kind of hard for me to watch as these people are practically worshiped. Not because the weird-obsessive culture freaks me out in any way, but because it makes me worry about… well, myself. My greatest dream is obviously to be a respected artist in some capacity, be it from writing a poem, blog, book, song, or album or, you know, anything. I want to be one of those people who other people look up to. It’s just that, when I think about myself, I can’t find any facet of my being that is worth obsessing over. There is no mystery to me. I’m just a boy or a man or a person or whatever who has some issues and perhaps a little talent. There’s nothing over-the-top about me. I’m not full-blown crazy like Max Bemis was for a time; I haven’t killed myself like Kurt Cobain did; I haven’t (allegedly) killed my girlfriend like Sid Vicious did. I’ve been hospitalized once for cutting myself and feeling suicidal. I’m on medication. I play guitar and had a bad breakup that I’m pretty stuck on, musically. I was almost killed in a fire. And maybe that one in particular sticks out as an interesting part of my life, but that’s all that it is. It’s not a part of who I am, and it’s certainly not something worth worshiping.I feel unqualified to create something when the creators I admire most are as revered as they are. I don’t deserve to be revered. I have never done and never will do anything that will make anyone’s jaw drop.
It just makes me scared that I’m not like them. It makes me think I’ll never make it.