The song of Delmora

It’s hard for me to express how much Delmora means to me in a way that makes sense, is relatable, and isn’t grossly sappy. The story however, is not relatable. The way a stories happens, how they’re written, what they mean is all unique to who is writing.

Delmora came to me all at once. Most series aren’t made from beginning to end but Delmora happened like that. It happened, and like a catchy song that doesn’t leave your head, the song of Delmora has been playing on repeat since I was 15 years old. Like a song, it mostly comes to me right when I’m about to fall asleep. It’s become its own radio station in my subconscious and no matter how hard I try to bury the melody, it’s always on.

I don’t know the source of Delmora, not really. Sometimes I don’t even feel like I chose to write it, it basically wrote itself, but it haunts me. Every word that I don’t write, it plays back to me on repeat as if possessing me to do something about it or cursing me if I don’t.

Someone once told me the reason they don’t write is because they feel as though they have nothing to add that hasn’t already been said. That statement really stuck with me because I’ve always felt like like an insignificant droplet in an ocean of people, ideas and consciousness. I don’t feel like I’ve lived long enough to have anything to say about anything. I didn’t write Delmora to say anything, I still don’t know why I wrote Delmora. It’s just as much a part of me as my face, as breathing or eating. As I live in this world so does Delmora and as I can write and speak the english language, Delmora’s song will be sung.

Delmora is a symphony of music. I am just a conductor, an organizer of a noisy chaos. I pick up the notes and I put them in the right places. The song plays itself.