Music has its benefits. I remember when it helped me like a loyal friend on lonely nights when my car was my only stable companion. When there wasn't much but the moonlight reflecting on the waves that were rolling in. It was there for me when no one else could, when many didn't believe in what was within me, and when my own parents didn't trust me. Music created that space for me to retreat to when the place I once called my home only complicated matters. Music was and has been there for me and continues to be everything I ever wanted in people through the airwaves and through the sound and silence.
Music definitely has its benefits. But it's not the same, anymore. These days, it's only been salting the wounds left behind by invasive emptiness and heartbreak. Every note, chord, riff, and lyric sung only reminds me of times that have happened and past. Music used to replenish me, refresh me, give me the strength to carry on, but these days, it only laces my everyday life with the weight of people come and gone.
This is why I, when I was a younger child in the days of elementary school, vowed to never stumble on the roots of attachment because I had an idea of how difficult it would be to live with the holes that will always remain when it cannot be. So much for promising myself.
I'll never stop missing you.
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