You'll never touch these things that I hold. The skin of my emotions lies beneath my own.
How is it that a song has the ability to conjure up such emotion? I'm not the first person to state that. But how about those moments where everything is perfect. For those two hours time stands still. And you don't even realize it until five years later when you're meeting friends at a bar. And all of a sudden a melody strikes you out of nowhere. And now you're back. You're sitting there in the car late at night smoking cigarettes with your seat fully reclined. And you're staring up into the ice cold night sky through the sunroof. And life as you know it is perfect.
And it's great. But there's a time for everything. You're at a birthday and you are meant to be social. In fact, you're obligated to be social. It is somehow your duty to entertain the four people situated at your end of the table. And you love it. You're three espresso shots deep and it's 5 pm. And you've had a good day and you're in the zone. You are about to state your claim on some story that is both informative yet hilarious complete with hand gestures and facial expressions to match. And then Fiona Apple comes blaring out of the speakers. And you stop. And you look to your left. And your friend awaits with anticipation.
You're caught. And you don't care. Because something deep down inside you has triggered an important memory. And you tell your story. But you don't really tell YOUR story. You tell a story that has no relevance on your life. You want to tell YOUR story but you don't. So you excuse yourself. You grab your thoughts with a cigraette in your left hand. You sit there looking up at the very same sky you gazed at five years earlier. And you smile. You like how it's all turned out. You walk into the bar, sit down, and order another cranberry cocktail.
So is this personal? Not a chance. But you get the idea.
