Music + Love = Me, Singing?
My earphones are stuck to my ears now. But unusually though, I’m listening to the love songs that I stashed away here in my laptop, and not my usual playlist of upbeat, rock music.
Whenever I try to describe how music makes me feel (the music that I like in general, regardless of what genre), I always seem to be at a loss for words. Music, just like my inadvertent forays in the business of romance, often leaves me speechless. Just how do I put into words the way it makes me feel without giving it a great disservice with my attempts at lame words? Music, like love, is probably just meant to be felt and relished, and not get ruined by our overflowing bursts of emotions. You listen to music, or love a person, not because it makes sense but because there’s just basically no other way of being alive and inspired.
I’m in love with music. I love how by just listening to it brings me to completely different mind frames, and that at-home sense of self. It’s that elusive feeling that I find myself to be a captive of, that sense of being a willing prisoner in a world where at best you are only loved for all your imperfections. That it is a feeling that nothing compares to; this instrumental song I’m listening to right now, could have very well been dedicated to me by that individual had that individual only have an idea.
Had I only not chosen to
love from afar.
You know that feeling when you are gripped by this maelstrom of purple butterflies in your gut and you tell yourself, my God, why in the hell is the world not stopping for this? How come the cosmos does not feel for me and the people, how could they be so inured and not slap me out of my wits and tell me how excruciatingly cheesy I’m sounding right now?
Is it just music, or is it something else.