It’s been 240 hours—that included 2 most-recent movies, a half-bag of chicken wings, an hour of self-loathing and crying, a gazillion-times-repeated heartbreak song(s) (which are heartbreakingly sad and painful) and a novel that I have just started reading again—since the last time I saw his face.
Ugh.
I used to be crazy over my music I store in my iPod, but lately they just suck in being ‘the music I store in my iPod’. Which does not necessarily mean I have sucky taste of music (‘sucky’ is not even a word), but it’s just because for the past few weeks I had been sharing them (my music) with a person who, at the present, happens to be my kind of past already. (Ouch)
Which (how many times have I used the word ‘which’ so far?) got me come up with some kind of conclusion: I should not share my music with anyone anymore.
Or maybe I should really just be more careful in sharing my music with any particular person. Because here’s the thing: say I come up with an idea and then I share it with someone and that someone somehow contributes a sub-idea to my idea and after then it’s not my own idea anymore, it’s somewhat theirs too.
Am I making my point? Well my point is, when you start to listen to this song and you like it so much and then you meet a person and then somehow you go all “Hey you know what, I think I know a song you’d like which kind of describes us both right now, or us in the future, or us in the past, which doesn’t matter because at the moment we are together, but seriously you should listen to it and tell me if you feel the same thing and that we’re SO destined to be with each other” and then you give him the song and unfortunately he LIKES it too and BOOM the song is not only yours now, it’s his too. It is now a song for two people, you and him, and then you sing it together during dates and rides and awkward silence pauses and every time the song comes up on a radio either of you would text each other “OUR SONG IS ON THE RADIO” and see what just happened there? Our song. Our song. Not my song, not your song, our song.
Other people might claim the song as theirs too, but the point is that now the song becomes a bridge, becomes a frikkin Golden Gate bridge which joins you and the person you share the song with. The song has now become The Song. Not just some song, The Song.
And what makes it even worse, you can’t just simply forget The Song. No. The Song, will always be The Song. The Song becomes a memory. You’ll hear it twenty years from now and the pages will be flipped back, flashing right in front of your eyes and you can’t help but reminisce. Which isn’t always a bad thing, honestly, but if the memories attached to the song is already bad, like memories of the past and how it used to be so magical and wonderful (I hate hate hate past tenses), but now all they are is history, one that you wish to unsee, but it’s there, inevitably, well, the flashing back and the flipping pages won’t be quite as delightful anymore.
And I think it’s just simply unfair to the song if you end up skipping it every time it plays. I mean it’s kind of normal, you skipping it, because to listen to every bit of it is upsetting. It’s bittersweet, which makes it even more sad. Because it’s bitter, but yet you still acknowledge the sweetness of it. The sweetness of what now has become the past. And it’s upsetting because you know it’s a good song, it’s a great song with mind-blowing melodies and awesome lyrics and it brings out such positive energy every time you hear it, but then the memories intervene aaaaaaaaand boom, good song gone bad.
This has been in my draft since forever.
- Sri Izzati http://theladybug.tumblr.com/ -
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