Everybody says I have it good. A steady well paying job, a beautiful wife, a loving family and a good number of friends. I should be thankful and happy for where I am today, especially since I was a dweeb and an introvert growing up. Even my belly fat is slowly disappearing as I have taken up a new exercise and healthy eating regime.

But I am sad.

On the surface music is my hobby. It has been ever since I was a teenager. But in my mind I have always told myself that music is my life. I never doubted I would end up with a musical career, allbeit a small but fulfilling one. Alas, i am a corporate slave still labeled as a hobbyist, not a professional. Not a day passed without me at least turning on a track or two on a stereo; until last night. It did not feel strange, it just felt numbing. Am I becoming what I have always feared to become? Just another cog in the system?

I have willingly put handcuffs on myself and swallowed the key. I have accepted the inevitability my family and wife have always wanted me to become. None of my close friends appreciate my music. It all seems so futile for me to continue with it.

I can’t just up and leave my whole life and pursue music. It’s not that simple. I am responsible for someone, and it is too big a risk. I will dissapoint so many people by jumping off a cliff without a parachute, and if I fall I will be the dependent one. But this cliff I am on is wearing me down.

Here I am spilling my heart out on a hormone fuelled confession site when there are so many bigger more important problems happening right now as we speak. People hurting people, people hurting Earth; we are a greed fuelled death machine infesting this planet. And here I am worried about whether I still have a chance to be a professional musician.

F*** you all.