Journal Time!

Remember? | March 30, 2023

I used to listen to the radio a lot. Before a phone ever pressed against my pockets (and before my dimples had gone away), I got my music from what my parents chose for me. Me being as pretentious as I am now, I listened intently in order to form some gripping commentary about its subtexts. I was young, okay?

I never really went that deep into it. It was just another thing to think about, amongst a concatenation of other airy tripe. I just noticed a lot of songs were about love, romance, and the more salacious parts of life. The monotony got on my nerves. Where were the songs about friends and chairs and weird dreams and pop science? Why didn't they make more songs about those?

When I said this aloud I didn't really get a response back. In stumping my parents I found mental satiation, and my frustrations became quelled. I would go on to think of the next odd thing that came to occupy me so much for so long. I think I used to swing my legs.

What was I thinking about? I can't recall that anymore. What had I thought about, before the worry and the pain? How could I have cared so little about so much? Why do I keep my legs still now?

All I know is I understand what all those songs were about now. What a sad thing to have gained, for all that I lost.

Night time in the basement

Screaming about our feelings

Running through the cold air

Searching for a meaning

Passed out on the concrete

Dizzy from the spinning

Wake up to the feeling that everybody's leaving

- Vines, Hippo Campus