I can't listen to music while I try to write down what is going on in my brain. I get lyrics and rhythms in my head, I get the feelings of other people in the space where mine usually are. Instead of writing how I really feel, I'll start spouting lyrics from The Smiths, Radiohead, The Shins. Whatever I'm listening to. Although sometimes, it would be nice to live life with a soundtrack. I hate silence. I sometimes enjoy silence while I'm asleep, or perhaps..
No. That's it. I only like silence when I'm asleep. What a realization. I think of it almost as a curse. I can barely enjoy silence for what it is anymore. Silence here means that I can still hear cars drive by, my roommates walking or talking or breathing. I can still hear creaks in the house, and wonder if the mouse is back to eat my chocolate. I can hear doors slamming, sirens, car horns. Sometimes yelling. My silence here is the music of the city.
It's unfortunate that our culture has become one of seclusion. Going out in public no longer means interacting with the general public- for today's hipsters, it's yet another time to squish in or slip on the headphones and shut out the world. I am guilty of this. I can't say I don't enjoy it. I just wish it weren't so easy to retreat into ourselves so often.
One last thing for tonight: TV shows and their ending scenes, complete with heartbreaking music, make me reconsider my decision to cut myself off from feeling. For a few minutes, at least, and only because they remind me that I once had a heart beating somewhere inside my chest. That, of course, has been lovingly discarded, and I am now the proud owner of a hollow soul.
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