The Music Community Regard Me As Mental Unwell And Wasted Talent

Image by Peter Fischer from Pixabay

After catching an excellent parking spot in town I got out of the car. As I headed in the direction for the town square I looked across the road and staring back at me through his sunglasses was one of the most famous musicians in Ireland. He is such a famous musician that I couldn’t possibly mention him by name.

Now many people know it, but we were good friends and he had been my music manager. He was very good to me and often took me out to his lovely big house in poet country to sit and relax. We’d chill out and listen to some great rock bands of long ago on his original record player.

He often told me how I could one day have it all like him if I kept writing great songs. The night he’d organized a scout from universal records to come to hear me play I ran away to Scotland. He told me not to go and said it would be a disaster. He wasn’t wrong. I even ended up homeless at one point.

He looked at me from across the street and I at him but I never approached him to say hello. I feel bad for doing it now. I don’t know. . . I feel like my life as a wannabe rock star is over. Even though I continue to write some material every now and again I don’t bother with it. Such was the powerful nature of my conversion I couldn’t see the world the way I used to.

Soon after that conversion the musical world on a local basis now views me as a wasted talent. They see me as being mentally unwell. Even before my conversion, they were always troubled at my quiet and deep thinking spirit. Being my manager at the time he said to me, “You know. . . if you don’t stop thinking and reflecting the way you do, you could end up depressed and like your cousin.” My cousin had committed suicide. He was right. Not long after I attempted the same on several occasions. I once tied a guitar lead around my neck and tried to do away with myself but I couldn’t do it. I don’t recall exactly but I think the light fixture came out of the ceiling. Haha. . . such as the inability to succeed at securing a good career in life that I couldn’t even succeed at killing myself.

Another time was when I had been so drunk in the highlands of Scotland. I stood on an icy bridge and stared at the icy waters below in the thick of winter. The steel railing was so thin and I so drunk it can be only considered a miracle I didn’t slip in.

The music community view me as a peculiar sort. To them the Stephen they knew is dead. They pity me. But they are right that I am dead. For although I did not succeed in killing myself The Lord succeeded in killing the part of me that made me that need to to die in order to be truly saved.

I am dead and daily always dying. The old Stephen is gone and that’s not a bad thing at all. The Stephen that wanted to be worshipped by the world is not the Stephen that despises all forms of praise.

I appear mad to all only because my way of life is totally opposite to the secular ideal. If I didn’t appear as mentally unwell to all my old buddies would I even be a Christian? Can one claim the title of Christian and still be a friend of this world? I don’t think so. I don’t mind these labels because I don’t care who remembers me, only Jesus.

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