The only way to listen to music is with your heart in your throat and your headphones on, sitting on a curb in the shade, telling yourself you’ll be fine as long as you get the voice out of your head and the smell out of your senses, killing your top rated, wondering if you can call someone, anyone out there, to distract yourself, but no, you’ll handle it on your own, because you’re strong enough, you’ve been through the worst of it already, and this is just another thing, wondering why it’s only in situations like this that the beats pound your chest like a sledgehammer and the voices sing out achingly in place of your dumb silence.
That’s how I’ve felt the last three days. Heartachy, but for no reason.
I’m married to the love of my life, my best friend, and soul mate… and all I can think about is how ugly I feel, and how much I want to shrivel up. And maybe if I can just reach out to someone who knows what I feel like, even an iota, I’ll be okay, because maybe I can get distracted, or get some sympathy to take away from the aching, but no… I’ll just bother them… I think I’ll just watch tv, cry silently, and maybe listen to some Mancini.
The part about not wanting to bother other people rings especially true for me. Sometimes, it’s only the music that takes the pain away.