I can barely remember now what I was, could have become. From time to time fragments pull themselves into focus amongst the scattered debris of confusion and despair. All I can clearly recall is how alive I felt, how proud, when I became a living part of my creation. Everyone regarded my music as a creative process, and there were those who regarded me as some sort of genius. It was everything to me. Within the melodies, I wove my experiences together with my soul and laid it all bare to the world. The adulation I received paled into insignificance when those first notes throbbed through my being. There, beneath the ground, I became immortal.

I had such promise, they all said so. One day I would be famous and with the fame and fortune would come the wonder of traveling the world. From each country, each culture, there would be new notes and melodies seeping into my soul, and I would relive time and again in my music. Music I would share with the world.

But that was all so long ago, in a previous life, when I was whole and complete, a life full of promises waiting to be fulfilled.

v Although I might be accused of repeating myself, I have to say it again. I can barely remember it now. Oh my memories of all that happened are strong and vibrant, but since her death, since I abandoned my family Below......... I find my mind is losing the ability to recapture the sounds that were the best of who I am, what I was and can never be again.

When I first hit the streets it seemed the easy option, the end of the pain I carried. Since then, hadn't I lost friend after friend through drugs? We never learn do we? Always assuming it will happen to someone else. I remember the moment I opened my eyes and realized I had survived my first overdose, and I thanked whatever Gods looked down on me that I hadn't suffered the fate of so many. That too was long ago, now I see death at every corner, my constant companion, but the memory and the pain remain closer still.

The boy prodigy, the world Below, the music in my soul. It all seems like another life, nothing to do with me, yet I yearn for what I have lost. And where once, my whole being was filled with sound and magic, there is nothing, only a silence so absolute that I cannot even hear my soul as it cries out in grief.

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