I sat listening to music last night, music that moves me. And I became angry. I became angry because I felt tears on my cheeks. Those tears reminded me that some people close to me would have laughed at those tears, had they seen them. They would have made fun of my emotions. And that made me very angry. I felt like screaming, though I didn’t. I just seethed and let the tears fall. And I wondered if they are right. Is it stupid and silly to let the poetry of music filet my soul and leave it exposed to the air?
The music is sometimes dark, but mostly it is just emotional. It forces me to feel things I would otherwise simply wear. I feel a close connection to certain singer-songwriters, because they write and sing things I can’t express, no matter how hard I try. I can’t do it through writing. I can’t do it through talking. I can do it only through listening and appreciating words and tunes that unleash emotions so desperate for the light of day that I am afraid they will burst out of me in explosive blasts.
I hide behind music. I can’t release, even in writing, the emotions that are so like those explosive blasts. I want to tell the world how I feel, but the world isn’t listening and doesn’t care. It just wants to be silly and make fun of things it doesn’t understand.
Some days, the world has no empathy, no compassion. Some days? Most days.