Playlists

A Story by Madison

This piece has always been in the back of my mind. I mainly wrote it just so I would feel better about not having it playing in my head over and over.

Has anyone ever told you: “You think too much”? It’s condescending. As if this person has the ability to think less and more essential thoughts than you. Believe me, if I could meditate the thoughts and worries out of my head, I would. So thank you for your input on my inner turmoil.

But that’s dramatic. It’s always so melodramatic.

I wish I could stop thinking.

Not stop to the point of brain dead, but my god, to have a moment’s peace from myself. So much noise, there is always so much noise.

Perhaps this is why I shove ear buds into my head whenever I am by myself, to shut myself up for a minute. Having other people’s mayhem surround my thoughts, maybe I am not alone. The music rests in my ears, filling my head with words and song that I wish I could express as eloquently as they have.

My playlists muffle my qualms, my doubts. Having the clamor blanketed is comforting. It’s still there though; at least it’s not so loud.

So I like to keep my issues strong

But it’s always darkest before the dawn

I always feel this way after drinking too much. My mouth is dry, obviously dehydrated. I’ll get a water bottle from the vending machine at the next stop. Luckily my head has stopped pounding, but my stomach still feels like there is poison sitting at the bottom of it. Well, alcohol. It is after all: Poison.

I could control my drinking, if I wanted to. …Isn’t that what alcoholics say? Probably, but I’m still too young to admit that. Maybe it’s not alcohol that I have a problem with, but control. That’s my problem; I have no control over myself. I should work on that.

Especially with him. I have no control over myself when I’m around him. I used to call it love. This isn’t love anymore, I know it. It’s just sick now. He took everything I had when he left me and moved. He ripped the control right from my fingertips. I keep going to him, in the hopes of gaining something back. I keep going, but I end up with less than I came with. It’s gone, my restraint, my feelings…my dignity.

It’s over.

And everybody’s gotta learn sometime

Everybody’s gotta learn sometime

I wish I was not on this bus anymore. At least I’ll get a break when I get my water. I’ll feel better. I wonder if I just stayed off the bus…if I just stayed in San Luis Obispo, like it was an understandable accident. An adventure. I don’t think I know anyone there. I would be by myself. I wonder what would happen? …Maybe not, I would be by myself. At least it’s fun to think I’m brave.

Old but I’m not that old

Young but I’m not that bold

I think we take it for granted, where we live. Not just here in California, but anywhere. There’s something about watching the world go by from a window. It is poetic in its own right, watching the world pass too quickly, as is life. It could be horrendously cliché, but there’s a reason that clichés exist, isn’t there? It’s a thought that’s thought so much because almost everyone else has thought it before? So why feel bad for thinking it? Why feel bad for thinking anything at all? It’s when you say it, that’s when it becomes a cliché.

Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things

Living in ruins of the palace within my dreams

I can see the bridge, one of them at least. I’m getting close to home. I wonder when I’ll leave again, so that I can come back.

Half of the time we’re gone

But we don’t know where

Some of us, me included, have to remind themselves that we’re not the center of the universe. Being trapped in the center of my mind so often, I forget this. I constantly find myself getting lost, then returning to reality with a horrible sense of selfish tendencies. I’m not special, I’m not alone. I’m incredibly, utterly ordinary with these thoughts and feelings. I need to remember this.

Yeah, they’re probably right. I do think too much. But when you’re stuck on a bus with no one to talk to but yourself, what else can you do but think? Always thinking. Always. Even with the playlists. But our music is good company; it helps me think to not think. Just for a moment.

Words are flowing out
Like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe