A Love Letter to Melancholy Melodies: My Musical Journey
You know that feeling when a sad song hits just right? That bittersweet ache that settles somewhere between your chest and your stomach? That’s my happy place.
Music has always been more than just a hobby for me—it’s where I breathe, dream, and sometimes dramatically belt into a hairbrush mic. I grew up with classical piano, the kind where your fingers are trained like tiny ballerinas, dancing across the keys with discipline and grace. Those early lessons were my first love—strict, beautiful, and grounding.
But then came the voice. Mine. I started singing lessons and discovered I could pour my soul into melodies, not just play them. And of course, I didn’t go for peppy pop hits. Nope. Give me heartbreak, longing, and lyrical poetry any day. I’ve always been drawn to melancholic songs—the ones that tug at you, haunt you a little, and stay with you long after the last note.
So much so, that my kids have diagnosed me with Sad Song Singing Syndrome. It’s not official (yet), but according to them, it’s a very real condition that involves sitting at the piano, looking out the window dramatically, and singing every Adele-esque ballad like it’s the soundtrack to a romantic tragedy. Guilty as charged.
Lately, I’ve taken a brave (and slightly chaotic) leap into writing my own music. It’s a vulnerable kind of magic—starting with a piano riff, humming something raw and imperfect, and slowly turning it into a song that feels like me.
If you’re curious, I’ve even started uploading my songs to YouTube. You’ll find piano-driven ballads, introspective lyrics, and maybe a few moments where I get overly emotional mid-verse (it’s part of the charm, I promise).
🎧 Check out my YouTube channel here – visit my channel
This isn’t just a creative outlet—it’s a part of who I am. Music helps me tell stories I can’t quite put into words, and honestly, it’s the best kind of therapy I’ve ever had (cheaper too).
