I remember being so amped up on the adrenaline of a great guitar riff, and the pulse of hormones raging through my body, I didn't think I could stand it for another minute.Nothing else existed at that moment except the wail of those guitars and the scream of the singer's voice.
It was all tied together; the music, sex, passion, feeling alive and on top of the world. What happened? Where did it all go?
It's still in there, in my heart, buried deep inside under years of hurt and invalidation and pain. I used to think about killing myself, wondering what it would be like, the but the thought of not hearing music again was enough to make me realize that was never going to be my path.
I feel my heart beat faster as I look through the pictures in this book. This was MY scene, this was MY life, MY world. I was a part of it, even if I was invisible to most of those around me. Not hip enough or cool enough to be part of the inner circle, but outside looking in. I was here, and I will carry those memories and that passion forever tattooed on my soul.
It changed me forever. I forgot how entwined my heart and my soul was with the sweaty pounding drums and chunky guitars and the stench of cigarettes and stale booze. It clings to me much the same way it clung to my hair and clothes all those years ago. I can never get rid of it; I tried. It is always going to be a part of me. And I welcome it back into my life.