No Place for an Artist

I'm tired of coming back to Lexington. I don't know why I keep hurrying back here...all I run into is a chaotic mess and a reminder of how much the last 16 years of my life have really sucked. My parents got divorced when I was twelve, and since then its been nothing but drama and I wasn't raised like I should have been. I know my mom did the best that she could, but my dad didn't treat me like he should have....my step-dad had to fill in on several steps of being a man. And my dad did nothing to help prevent my problems with college.......yet he takes credit and tells me how proud he is of my music....none of which had any inspiration as a result of his fatherhood. I dont get my inspiration from family life because I'm scared to death of what that kind of music would sound like!! I'd probably have friends knocking at my door begging for me to get help and such.

I can never get anything done musically here.....part of the problem is my brother, Mario plays his guitar and unfortunately he lives in a loft with no wall so you can hear it all the way throughout the house. And music clashing is very troublesome for me as a composer. And I hear my mom constantly complaining and in a subconscious way she's putting me on a guilt trip because her complaints are that she NEVER gets any help around the house. Which is probably true, but I always do what I can to help when I'm here.

I don't think I could ever get married.....I'm much happier living a quiet little life on my own, with no one to worry about. I'd make it very well as a hermit.