There are things I feel that I don’t know, that I can’t name, that are there, just below the surface.
Music gives them a voice, makes them heard, forces me to listen. There are songs that make you think of that special person you have in your life. If you don’t have one, of whom do you think? Or do you just smile at the sentiment?
What happens when you’re not supposed to feel a particular way about a person? Do those songs bring them to mind?
I have thoughts in my head, I can’t speak them because they scare me. I can’t speak them because I’d rather they weren’t true. I can’t speak them because they just might be.
I think of you. I wish I didn’t. But I do. I see things and wish you could experience them with me. That is a dangerous feeling. One I do not want to have. I have four more weeks to convince myself so.
Watching concrete walls fly by, a soundtrack for this world is buzzing in your head. It’s fitting. The dull roar of the machine, smooth and powerful, there’s a comfort in the unknown. Ears pop, you wonder about the world outside and it comes into view. It’s a tired industrial world, all in slow motion. The trees are weary and colourless. The rest of the world is moving in routine, a well practiced dance they all know. A permanent shade of grey. Back underground, the machine comes to life, eager to leave, to escape the clutches of a dying land. There are flashes of colour, fields of green against stark grey skies.