Songs from the Edge
For as long as I can remember, writing songs has been a way to survive. Not as a creative outlet in the romanticized sense, but as a tool to stay sane. To keep from going completely off the edge. For some, music is expression. For me, it's been more like exorcism.
More Than Just Another Album
My latest release, Left with Nothing, is not just another album. It’s a personal archive of darker moments. These songs were written during some of the most difficult periods of my life. Times when I felt the ground was giving way beneath me. It wasn’t just heartbreak or disillusionment. It was deeper, more destructive.
The Goodbye Song
One track, "Train for Forever," was written as a farewell. Not metaphorically, but literally. It was a goodbye to life. I was convinced I had reached the end of the line. But what followed wasn't peace or healing. I made chaos. I burned bridges. And in doing so, I unknowingly ensured that certain possibilities - some of them good - would never return.
The Cost of Sanity
I know now that this wasn’t the kindest way to deal with pain. But when you're in survival mode, kindness isn't the priority. Clarity is. And clarity, for me, came through cutting everything off the hard way. I needed to reclaim sanity, and sometimes that meant making decisions that hurt others so they couldn’t circle back and keep hurting me. It was never about revenge. Only escape.
The Unreleased Song
There’s still one song from that era I’ve never released and may never will. I wrote it shortly after losing someone I’ll only call A. Played on acoustic, it was raw. Pure emotion, pure damage. It made people cry. But to me, it felt like something darker had written it through me. That song carried too much, even for me. It reminded me of something I discovered during those years. That the trauma I had carried from youth hadn’t just scarred me. It had made me dangerous in moments of despair. Recognizing that was terrifying. But I fought those instincts. I still do.
Loss and Truth
This album also represents the aftermath of realizing just how alone you can become when you start protecting yourself with too much precision. I lost most of my friends along the way. Some because I pushed them away, some because they were never real in the first place. With time, I’ve also come to understand that not all people are worth keeping. Some were, frankly, not good people.
Instinct and Survival
I've always had an instinct for spotting the cracks in someone’s smile. Seeing the warning signs before they bloom into chaos. It’s a skill I never asked for. One born of necessity. Life trained me to see danger from miles away. And yes, it’s helped me survive. But it’s also made trust a rare currency in my life.
The Music Still Speaks
Still, Left with Nothing isn’t just bleakness. It’s a document. It’s truth. Each track is a time capsule from a life lived on the edge of collapse. But not falling. Not quite.
Final Note
I don’t regret writing these songs. I had to. They helped me save myself. And if someone else hears a fragment of their own struggle in them, then maybe that matters too.
This album is for anyone who's ever been close to the edge and had to claw their way back using only broken chords and fragments of hope.