Sometimes I wish I could tell people how hard it is to be a full-time artist.

How difficult it is to make good business decisions when the bank account is regularly hitting the last few remnants.

Bills start being late consistently.

Opportunities flood the gates but a clear path forward does not emerge.

Sometimes I’m merely swerving from island to island in between swimming desperately for shore.

I wish I could explain how much it hurts to be adored and also feel like an outsider to the world, when I can barely afford food and gas on my own.

When people offer to hang out, to go do “normal” things. Go out to eat. Go see a movie. Catch an event on the town.

And my answer is no because… any dollars I have are going towards my survival. And my survival fuels my career. And my career fuels my dreams. And my dreams fuel my purpose.

What sense does it make to hang out?

To get food at a restaurant,

when I collect dollars to get morsels from Kroger?

I decline politely, silently carrying the weight of my choices.

Sometimes I wish I could explain the weight – something about honesty brings on catharsis that eases the tension in my chest sometimes present from the stress.

I have long debated for months telling the truth… but no, few could hold it, I think.

Hold it and hold me with the sensitivity I need.

How do I use studios and beats,

Connections and big feats,

when I’m wondering what I’m going to eat?

Most importantly, God provides

for me. If it wasn’t so,

I’d have been out of the race long ago.

Sometimes I wish I could tell people how scary it can be,

to do things I’ve never done before with uncertainty.

To spend my last few dollars on music,

faithful that I’ll make it back again

And then somehow see a return

on my investment.

Only to see that bank account drop,

again, and again,

still I rise.

When people look at me with respect and admiration for my courage,

sometimes it makes me want to cry

because only God knows

what it’s like inside.

Joy

So that’s why I find joy in the simplest things –

The cup of coffee God provides every day,

another meal that nourishes my body.

A funny reel on instagram,

the encouraging word from a friend who believes in me.

The ones close who are pouring in,

who see my struggle,

and do not condemn,

but provide comfort,

when ease is all I demand.

Keep your parties and your politics,

I just want a hot meal with my man,

in peace and quiet,

outside the world’s constant demands.

I’m sure most mean me no harm,

yet I pray for a way

to speak my heart

in times when it’s hard.