Analysis of life is like a record player

I used to have this reoccurring thought

a way of seeing existence

as a record player

and life was a never ending vinyl that spun to an assortment of different tunes

we were the groves of the record that made up the songs

for some, the needle flowed seamlessly along their melody

but when it came to me

for some reason it didn’t read quite the same

it felt like I was a never ending scratch

an unavoidable bump that ruined the song every time my part came along

life was the needle dragging me along this plastic epitome

I was a scratching it

when I looked back at the song which played of my past it was a mess

I was nothing but a scratch
a accident
a mess up

although I still resonate with this metaphor, it has evolved

I realized that

although life might be this endless vinyl which grows as we do

and we leave a song behind which represents a timeless imprint of our life

it has changed

because we aren’t all on the same vinyl

we each possess our own unique one

and we decide how it plays

if we scratch the vinyl its our fault it ended up that way

because we’re playing the wrong song

mine’s engraved with soft indie

theirs played rap

so I played rap

but it didn’t work

the melodies crashed

and I was the only one who fell

but it was only because I was pretending to be something I wasn’t

a song I wasn’t

but there is so much untouched vinyl left to come

for me to sculpt to the song of my choice

different phases left to come

lessons left to learn

and I’m ready to do it all as I please

not how others please

not how I think others will be pleased  

I’m not going to ruin my record anymore

it’s my record

I’m going to enjoy every second of this song

the good and the bad

the scratches, the riffs, and the chorus

because isn’t that what it’s all about

listening to that song for the first time

not just saying you played it

but that you actually enjoyed listening to it