bigmike222

Some days I wonder why I do what I do. I wonder why I get out of bed, why I eat too much, drink too much. The happiest moments of my days are spent practicing...scales, technique, positions. No thought happens in those moments, it's pure reaction and mathematics. I should be happier, but I'm not. My days revolve around wanting to punch holes in the walls and the restraint from making that a reality. I'm going to listen to angry music and drink whiskey until I fall asleep, and then repeat this day for the rest of my life.