Or in this case, Goddess

I wonder if this makes me weird, makes me a little of a pariah. But I don't think I love anything more or anyone more than music. She can make me cry, laugh, dance, vent, scream, relax, and even get turned on. I call her she because like a man names his car for affection, I see music as a living being breathing loving entity.

I came home tonight from a particularly difficult day. I was deathly sick and still went into work, and after about 5 mins into my shift realized I was probably going to pass out. I coughed, hacked, and dripped snot over at least 200 angry and impatient people. Alone and the only cashier of the night with a snot ball hanging off my noise and my voice now so scratchy I can barely whisper the total, I had to listen to another person complain about how there wasn't enough people on tills at night. Yeah. Right. Like I didn't fucking know that.
I seriously felt like my life had shrunk and shrivelled and would die in this horrible place and that all my days were going to be like this because I've had too many of them.

I came home planning pretty much on dying. And then maybe eating something. Or whichever order came first. But I listened to some tunes after I filled my belly with some hot soup and she spoke to me in her most softest beautiful voice. She spoke in guitar and piano and in that husky voice, each note saying it's okay. You're okay. Life will be okay.

I love her. She is the only one there in the morning and there for me at night. I keep pretending like I don't know what I want to do with my life, but the truth is I know. Anything that involves getting to know her. Getting to adore her. Getting to honour her, I would be the most happy to do. Music, my only God. Or in this case Goddess.