My Life

I hear music; the beauty of a finger-picked guitar along with the quiet rhythm of a drum being pounded upon is lost as it travels through the air and echoes inside my eardrums. Voices carry through the wind like pollen in the spring, floating and drifting among the drafts and currents until they fade away into the earth. Are they even worth listening to?

My head turns slightly and my eyes begin to look around the room. Two Ryan Adam’s posters hanging on a wall, an Altoids canister, a pack of Ice Breaker Gum, my Samsung cell phone, a Bose Ipod player, Obama’s #1 New York Times Best Seller… Is it all worth the money I put into it?

I begin to think about the things which we place so much value and importance on. They say money can’t buy happiness, so why does the majority of the population try it anyways? What brings happiness if not the things which have monetary value? Love? Intelligence? Wisdom? Friends?

I hear the dimness of the voices from the people walking by; what are they trying to tell me? I imagine that they are trying to tell me how to be happy, I feel their words but do not hear them. Do they fail to speak loud enough, or do I just fail to listen?