Chapter 1: Searching for My Voice

I arrived here seeking the voice I lost in my childhood. This marks my endeavor to interpret the chaotic thoughts that swirl in my mind daily. Like a child who accidentally shattered a lamp, I retreat from the quiet while urging others to embrace it. In my defense, I once did embrace the silence with such grace that I inadvertently lost my ability to express myself. Now, I find myself ensnared in a reality that is necessary yet profoundly challenging to accept as my own.

I feel detached and disconnected. Stuck in limbo, I await guidance from the cacophony of voices that I’ve unwittingly formed bonds with throughout years of neglecting my mental well-being. But this isn’t solely my fault; I am a reflection of the environment in which I was raised. While that perspective may imply a victim mentality, which has some truth, I believe that with sufficient time, dedication, and readiness, I can uncover treasures not accessible to everyone.

These treasures will serve as my lifeline, allowing me to cultivate a stable and enriching life for my daughter and myself, both materially and immaterially. I welcome the acknowledgment and rewards that arise from such patience, a calmness that can only be described by the presence of a higher power and the absence of Self.

Despite this warrior-like mindset, I grapple with anxiety over what lies ahead for my life. My fears stem not from the typical worries of success but from the awareness of how swiftly everything may shift once I fully surrender to the potential that awaits, ready for me to embrace with grace and honor.

I feel confined by my surroundings, surrounded by individuals who, despite their claims of understanding me, remain oblivious to my true self. This realization brings me sorrow. Thus, I seek refuge, like a thief under the cover of night, diving into the deep abyss of escapism, yearning for a perfect remedy to my ongoing quest for substance and fleeting moments of joy.

I am like a pot that has outgrown its plant—I meant the opposite! Sleep eludes me, and I find myself in the same position for at least four days straight. God, if you are listening, I acknowledge my mistakes and promise to take this more seriously.

Prayer is more restorative than sleep.

Prayer is more restorative than sleep.

Prayer is more restorative than sleep.

This mantra echoes in my mind as my alarm goes off at 5:00 AM, jolting me from whatever nightmare I was trapped in throughout the night.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I turned to Medium seeking solace in articulating my emotions without those close to me thinking I am spiraling or overly engrossed in my work. I write this for anyone feeling unheard, for those with creatively tumultuous dreams that seem mad. You are not alone.

I hear you.

Do you hear me?

Be careful not to listen too intently, or you may lose yourself in the noise created by the wind rustling through the trees.

Check one, check two—can you hear me? Is anyone there? Hello, hello, one, two, three, or is this simply another occasion of me shouting into an endless void that encompasses everything but me?

slowHell.xyz — 1013 x 0510 x the sun will rise tomorrow.

INSHALLAH.

Chapter 2: Embracing the Journey

In the video "Richard Goodall Receives The GOLDEN BUZZER," we witness an emotional journey of reclaiming one's voice through performance, resonating with the theme of self-discovery.

The second video, "Auditions | AGT 2024," showcases various artists striving to find their voice, mirroring the essence of the struggles discussed in this piece.