Love. Listen. Repeat.

Sometimes you hate music, you think to yourself. It woos you, calls out to you, encourages you to come closer. But for what gain?

Some songs pull you down into its abysmal, slippery depths and it becomes difficult to dig yourself out of that hole. When you finally do save yourself, you realize that it was your fault – you had put yourself in that hole in the first place and you had allowed yourself to be consumed by that haunting melody, those sickly sweet notes. When the mess inside your head finally starts to settle down – fragile paper snowflakes inside an even more fragile snow globe – you ask yourself over and over again: Why did I do that to myself?

You have the answer to that question too – you want to wallow in self pity, in love lost, in words never spoken. You want to feel that aching pain bubble up from your abdomen into the very core of your chest, into the very being of your heart. People ask you why you would want to do that to yourself: Doesn’t it hurt? Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of moving on? Do you enjoy feeling this way?

Yes, it hurts – it aches, it belittles, it cuts too. Perhaps in this pitiful state of mind, it allows you to feel something. You reason that if you feel this misery, it means that at one point you truly did care. And is it not better to have cared than to have never cared at all?

But being the hypocrite that you are, now you do not care. You smile blithely. Both your voice and laughter have grown still, caught in the back of your throat. The laughter you do bestow so graciously upon others mocks their failures and the voice you do decide to grant to others curses those who have more fortunate lives. You do not shed tears for the struggles of the ones who mean the most to you; you have your own problems too. You do not care if it cuts too deep or if you cut others too soon. You do not care if someone else is feeling miserable because you love the company. You view the world as harsh and unforgiving. You hate to open up your eyes to the garish light of the sun because it just means that you have to get through another day. You do not care if it becomes a vicious cycle because the songs you listen to encourage you to be this way.

This goes on for days which turn into weeks which turn into months…until finally, one day, a new song floats into your mind by some random chance.

It speaks to you in volumes even more so profound than those excruciatingly depressing songs you kept on repeat. It speaks of loneliness in the sense of being comfortable in the confines of your mind. It speaks of love in the sense of loving yourself wholeheartedly as there is no greater love than self-love.

You actually feel the corners of your mouth curve upward, beginning to form a smile. Sometimes you love music, you think to yourself.


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