I’m a junkie.
No, I don’t do drugs.
I never did and probably never won’t. If you consider coffee a drug then yeah, I take. But it’s music what takes through life.
It’s said that every man should always have his phone, wallet and keys on him. I’d add my earpods to that list. I’d rather forget my money than this magical link with beyond.
It’s amazing how something pure as listening to music can control your feelings. Music is emotion, no doubt about it. Happy/ sad. Mellow/ energetic. Your frame of mind depends on what are you listening to. I can find myself changing my attitude with a couple of chords. Magic.
But I hate it. I hate music. And I love music. I’m living both worlds. I have passion for tunes. But I hate them. I can’t really explain why. I can’t explain this feeling.
There are times when I play a song and live my day with it. It’s a great feeling. There are also times when I play a song and change it. Then change again. And again. I can’t focus. I can’t enjoy this freedom which comes from tunes.
Thats why I hate it. There’s nothing to do about it. A day later I’m free. I listen. And feel. I’m speechless. Magic.
I often ask people what they like about music. The response I get is simple. “It contributes to vibe”, “I like the sound af a certain song”, “I like the lyrics”. I’m amazed that it comes so easy to them. Honestly, I can’t point to one thing I like in listening. It’s complex. But one aspect never changes — I have to take. I have to take when I’m sad and when I’m happy. When I’m making my way to school and when I sleep. I can’t live without these beautiful tunes. Yet I hate music.
I hate that music steers my daily life. I hate that my day is ruined if I forget my earphones. I hate sitting in silence.
I have to hear.
