Choir

For a while, I thought I had no song. There is no harmony, just melody. Go through the motions, and go through life. There is no uniqueness, no expertly crafted sonnet about me, like a summer pop song, easily digestible and listenable, but not memorable. Others around me will have a beautiful song, and I would love to be in the choir. I have no song because you should look at others first. No artist should listen to just their own, because then it becomes an echo chamber of self-doubt or narcissism, and the cycle repeats. I don’t want to create a song, but I will be happy to play in the choir.

But now I know that there is a song, it’s a beautiful song, but a solo can only go so far, it is not just me, myself and I. Others shape you, others make you realize your passions, fears, and love. Society tells you to love yourself, listen to your gut, block the haters, and put yourself first. But you should put others first, and people will reciprocate back to you, maybe ask why they are hating before you ignore them, and ask yourself “How can I be helpful today.” Helping others is the best and simplest mental health for yourself. No man is an island, and the world doesn’t revolve around you, so drop the mic and join the choir.

Philadelphia is told by elders like it is a competitive rat race in more than one way. We must win or lose, if you are a winner, then you beat someone. It’s just me myself and I, put yourself first, don’t worry about others; but where is the fun in that? Philadelphia isn’t a big American Idol contest, where only one will remain and everyone else fails. Philadelphia is a big Choir, your peers are your fellow altos or sopranos or bass’ or tenors. We all have a role in this city, but if we play it right we will succeed.