I miss the person I was. I have mourned her for a long time. Despite my 50/50 proclivity, which I believe I was born with, being able to sing was my lifeline. It was, in many ways, my life. It made me forget about all the rest. It was my therapy. My best friend. My way of laying it all out there. My means of processing all my emotions. Without it, everything just seems so pointless.
That’s not to say that I don’t care for anything else in my life. I care about you guys. But, and this is perhaps the crux of the matter, I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy to spend an hour in my mess of a head. It never stops. The doubts. The constant back-and-forth. The feeling that I lost everything in that split second the surgeon put his scalpel exactly where he did.
Until recently—until I made the o
