I was wondering one day. I tend to so that a lot, especially lately, I start thinking and wondering and it seems it never stops. I get lost in the images, the people, the sounds in my mind. It sounds psychotic, I've noticed, but It doesn't seem as though I have any control over it. It's like I'm just living and a minute detail catches my eye. A crack on the wall, the fly on the roof, there's condesation on my window. And that brings on a wave of musing and connecting, and one thought leads to another thought, another memory, another idea. And I get lost. Just like I havee done just know. What I was really wondering at the beginning of what can only be defined as a rant, is: Why would an artist, a person in particular, be willing to share his feelings so openly? To write a song that makes the one who listens cry? To pour so much emotion into words, their very thoughts into words, and not make it sound as a trip into the mind of a serial killer? How can a human being be so willing to bear their soul to unknown strangers, commonly known as fans. I believe it takes courage, and a hell of a lot of it. To be capable of such a humiliation, to let people know how they felt when one of their parents abuse him, or use him, to admit to all of the vices and the dark loops that shade their lives. To have such a reconciliation with themselves that they're able to say, "hey, I did this, I've said this. I'm not proud but I'm telling the whole world about it". Don't take me wrong, this is definitely not a critic. I hold an awful lot of respect to every singer there is, even if it's just for the fact they willingly let themselves be exploited for the pleasure, or the pain, of an audience. To make them know that someone else has somehow felt the same, and has been through the same things as they have. It takes a damn lot of courage. Spiritually and emotionally talking, they're heroes, role models of how a person should know themselves and get to accept their flaws as part of their own being. Though, like heroes, they fall, some harder than others. Some fall secretly, but to an extent, they all fall. Be it drugs, sex, alcohol, depression. Everyone falls. But you can't really blame them. They walk through life with a banner on their heads, bearing their hearts on a platter and their souls in their eyes. They live, fully concious of those things we normal people would rather forget. That's what their lives are made from, they make a living out of making every listener into their personal psychologist, pouring their thoughts into a poem, filled with bass and percussions and pretty sound, to cover for the bluntness or the pain they hid inside. The heartbreak is hidden between the lines of the passionate love song, the pain hidden in a cry to God. The truth, is hidng between the singer's voice and the electric guitar's sound.