Soliloqui

Some people say music is meant to reach you when you’re in that dark place, if only for five minutes, and show you that life has meaning again.
I don’t know if this applies to me. When I’m down, I don’t think music helps me that substantially. But music makes me feel. When I feel like I have no heart or emotions anymore, I feel the anguish of the singer and songwriter, I think about myself and my life and how I want it to be. I want to be in a place where I can feel, lie on bare ground and feel every raindrop that falls on my skin, every tinge of a sliver of emotion and be able to distinguish between them, like separating snowflakes in a drift.

So what if you catch me, where would we land?

Sing to me hope as she’s thrown on the sand.

When you’d hide, your songs would die,
so I’d hide yours with mine.

And all my words were bound to fail.
I know you won’t fail…

Treat life like a game, and no one can hurt you.

The great tragedy of Science - the slaying of a beautiful hypothesis by an ugly fact.

I’m afraid to be happy.

This is a stupid, ungrateful philosophy to be subscribing to. Alas, it’s the truth.

I mean, to some point I crave happiness. Who doesn’t? Happiness is a goal, a religion, a state of being. But once I reach a certain stage of ebullience, I fear it.

1. I believe that life is balanced. If something good happens, something bad is sure to follow. Equilibrium must be established.

2. Happiness has to end some time.

But then, this sort of goes along with the saying, “Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.” Which, I guess is true. Take the rain with the rainbows, I suppose? Better to have been happy and sad than never happy at all? Why does mediocrity seem so tempting sometimes? Maybe because, of course, there’s that other saying, “No news is good news.”

As a side note, there’s a reason I equally fear relationships. Relationships also have to end.
And even if they don’t, they interfere with other platonic relationships i.e. friendships. Spending too much time with one person…surely the cons outweigh the pros? Maybe I’m just not good at balancing all these elements in my life. Or just bad at all prosocial behaviors known to man.

As many people have told me, I’m going to grow up and be old, alone, save for a few dozen stray cats, and be called “that crazy cat lady/madwoman”.

I’m allergic to cats. Which just makes the scenario all the more bizarre.