Major life changes from every direction have left me reeling, stumbling for something to hold onto. A touchstone. Anything that seems real and tangible and unaltered. Everything, everything, everything in life changes. Circumstances change, residences and lovers and taste in music, too. More than anything, this change in myself make me feel... adrift. Which is how I feel in general as of late. Cast astray by my own volition. Floating along. Not in any way aimless. But unmoored.
My year in D.C. was nothing at all like what I thought it would be. Some very important progress was made and yet, within myself, I feel like I've regressed. Gone back but also altered. Figuratively. I feel like the stress of being in a new place and my internship and full-time school and a long distance relationship... the stress of all of it together caused me to backpedal on a lot of hard won emotional stability. Now, I am quite literally back where I started, back in Florida but also in a very different place than I was a year ago. Literally and figuratively. Because I've changed and my direction has changed and I am still trying to convince myself that its all ok. That it doesn't all have to come together right now.
Everything changes. I have been well aware of this point for some time and still it's not something I've ever dealt with well. I hold on. I miss people long after they've left. Change can be wonderful and positive and necessary but it frightens me. What lasts? What's forever? What promises get kept- to others and ourselves? What's the point in doing anything now and feeling like it will last? I'm impatient. I want a clear path. I feel torn. The more I grasp onto what I want with my left hand, the more I lose what I'm holding onto in my right. What I'd like most to change is this overwhelming feeling that I am powerless to overcome it. Maybe my brain just lacks the chip that equips you to deal with life. So I shut down.
I haven't been writing anything at all. Not e-mails, not anything about music, not in my personal journal. My logic, my thoughts, my words are circular. I wander around and come back to the same points. The same useless words. And I don't want to talk about it. Even the music that I find myself listening to is so very different from everything I did before. All new to me, nothing old and sacred, nothing laced with memories and old meanings and layers of feeling.
Lately, the most I can say about a song or a band is- I like this. Kings of Leon, Phoenix, The Cure, The Smiths, MGMT, Born Ruffians, Black Rebel Motorcycle Gang, Cut Copy and even The Beatles. This music is not mine. It is Jimmy's or Sharon's or JLM's or G's. It comes from someone else's car or iPod or from a DC bar that someone brought me to but its nothing that I've discovered on my own or that I feel reflects who I am. Or maybe it does. Because I'm changing, changing, changing and I'm not so sure of who I am at all right now. And yet. This feeling is so very familiar.
This was the very first song I remember listening to in Jimmy's car last year when we moved to DC. City and Colour. "Death of Me". I love Dallas Green's voice. Its soothing and heartbreaking and unbelievably expressive. The music is very calm and the acoustic guitars complement his voice perfectly. Really though, the lyrics and vocals are the main focus here. And they aren't for the faint of heart.
This is something that I'll never control.
My nerves will be the death of me, I know.
Though they certainly set a mood, I can't imagine anyone being cheered by this. Which isn't to say that I don't highly recommend it. It's simply that it sounds like depression. Not melancholy or the blues or manic-depressive suicidal rock bottom emo. It sounds... resigned. Not the kind of unhappiness that tears your heart out or makes you fall to your knees. The kind that you simply learn to live with and smile through and learn to carry with you.
Finally I could hope for a better day,
No longer holding onto all the things that cloud my mind.
Maybe then the weight of the world wouldn't seem so heavy.
But then again, I'll probably always feel this way.
