WHY I HATE THE SOUND OF THE BLUES

I swear my soul remembers a time when my dignity was intact and there was no need to sing the blues. I remember when suffering was not so monumental that the blues was necessary. My soul remembers a time when music and art primarily celebrated life. Regardless of what others try to tell me, I do not hear anything celebratory about life in the blues. What I hear is the sound of being stuck, of not having learned anything that would aleviate the need to sing the blues. I hear the sound of being identified in a way I don't relate to. The sound of the blues does not comfort me.