Corey Balsamo

Singer-songwriter from New York. Just trying to figure it all out.

I need to find a way to say this.

September has come and passed. I have nearly completed my first month as a first semester college student. This is not a landmark for me. It’s more of a monumental breaking point. In the past few weeks, I’ve gotten to experience a lot of the infantile stages of a college student. I’ve met new people. Really nice, new people. I go to a school with an esteemed reputation for its programs and its alumni. I live 25 minutes from a city that is the mecca and the hub of the cultural world. You could say I’ve got it all mapped out. I’ve got some big plan up my sleeve. And I’m just going to surprise everyone one day. The truth is, this wasn’t what I asked for. I thought it was, but its not. I know what I feel is real and I know that given the chance, I could flag it down and wrestle with it for a while, hopefully coming back with the prize between my teeth and an accomplished look in my face. The truth is, I don’t have it all planned out. And it scares the hell out of me and excites me at the same time. There is a certain comfort in conformity but that only lasts so long. Call it cliche. Call me presumptuous. Tell me I’m a dime a dozen. Call it what you will, but I have a purpose. There is a reason for me. There is a reason I’m up at 4 AM while everyone is tucked in and sound asleep in their bunks, but I’m awake typing this to probably no one. At the same time I’m heavily dreaming. I don’t want to say I’ve lost myself for a bit, but more like I gave myself a shot. I didn’t have big faith in it but that’s what made this an experiment. I baited the hook, threw it out there and waited for a bite. Now, I’m reeling in. I’ve done a lot of self examination and I finally hear it clearly in my head as if it were my own mother’s voice, telling me “Corey, you’re a performer”. And that’s what I am. I am songwriter. A singer. A dreamer with bigger dreams than you could imagine. I stepped away from it for a while. I tried to conform. Not conform in the sense that I stopped believing in my dream, but to see if I could fit my dream in with this so-called lifestyle. Truth is, this dream is too big to just be squeezed into a schedule with a time frame. It just doesn’t work that way. This dream is life. The life I was born to live and the shoes I was sized up to fill. I just need to slip ‘em on. Everything else is just secondary. What I’m trying to say is I miss it and I can’t do this anymore. The stage is where I live and I’m homesick. So, I’m going to ask you..

Can I, please, come home?

Cor

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