I hate music. I hate the lyrics. I hate the way the chords, the vocals, the crescendos, the bridges, the perfect placement of that high note move me. I hate how the perfect songs influence me to cry, laugh, feel bad, feel good, and just feel. I hate how the words inspire me. Every song I hear is some memory, some thought, some decision, some difficult stressors driving my actions.
Did the music make me love you?
Did the music make me hate you?
I don’t know. I may be certain it held its part. It doesn’t matter the genera. It doesn’t matter the artist. It all hits me. The weight of all I know is woven into every note, I cry, I bleed with the exact way the song was written. It was produced in hopes I would hear it and feel some sort of way. I’m sure of it. It influences me to the core. From the first day I could comprehend, music has swayed my entire life.
Should I stop listening?
Should I stop conforming?
Perhaps. However, how would I release? How could I empathize? How would I know that somewhere on this enormous planet, there is another soul who feels and bleeds just like me?
Music helps me know I’m not alone with heartache.
Music helps me know I’m not alone with all these feelings.
It is exactly why I want to scream when I hear a song that equally represents my life. WHY!! I don’t want the tears to fall. I don’t want to feel at all. But here comes the song, the lyrics, the chords, the vocals, the crescendo, the bridges, the perfect placement of the high note… Each note is an exact representation, and I feel, I cry, and I lose control.
Music made me stronger.
Music gave me hope.
Music helped me live.
I can trace each moment of my life. Each moment is matched to a song. A song that I fell in love with. A song I will always remember.
It’s this love of music that drives me. When the moment hits, I sing along so I can feel a deeper connection with my love/hate relationship with music.