Music

How can I make this sound real to you? How can I explain how it feels? It’s a feeling that is like no other. Those who choose to feel it are lifted by it. Those who choose to accept it are transported by it. People, who can feel, people who are in touch with their feelings, can let it take them away. But this isn’t just one feeling. It’s a feeling that can make you fly; I guess it depends on the person.

That’s what’s needed. That one choice, that one small decision in life can make your experience increase a hundred fold.

For me it was when I heard that one song. It doesn’t have to be that one song; it can be a number of songs, a combination of songs, from any genre. It really doesn‘t matter, All it is, is that one conscious choice you make, to feel that song or not.

It sounds easy doesn’t it? But people don’t know how to feel. People don’t want to feel, or they’re just afraid of feeling it.

At least that’s what I think. My life has always been about hiding, it was always about burying what I felt. I had no idea how to express what was truly inside of me. I didn’t think it was even possible for me to feel at one point of my life. I was a manikin of a person, created to just fill space.

Pretty sad isn’t it. It was a sad state for me. Now that I look back on it, there was a lot of turmoil in my life. I did my best to burry it. Never to feel, never to confront it. Just burry it “out of sight, out of mind” as they used to say.

One day though, all that changed. Someone that I held dear to my heart, someone I loved suddenly died. I didn’t love him in that way; he was like an older brother to me. Someone who was always there for me. Unlike most of my family that usually did their best to try and conceal that fact that I was remotely related to them.

But he accepted me. He loved me like his brother treated me like his confidant, when I was around him I felt like I was important. I never showed it though. I remember he used to bring me along on some of his jobs that he would do. He would always tell me though. He’d cut my balls of if he ever caught me doing this.

He used to play the same song over and over. I never paid any attention to it though. I felt it useless. I was also too much into him. Just enjoying his company was good enough for me.

I never new why he would play that song over and over and over. He told me once that it helped him escape life, and feel alive. Back then I couldn’t understand that.

One fateful day he was driving home late from a job when his car was struck by a drunk driver. Both were killed instantly.

It was a closed casket ceremony, his body was too burned, to disfigure for an open casket ceremony. Yet I still felt nothing. Just more and more locked and buried emotions. I considered myself to be soulless. That changed shortly after.

I was walking home from my job that day paid no head to anything just kept my head down and watched as the feet pattered around me each looking for a path to escape my non existing life. I was alone. Nothing no one. I pondered for a while why I should carry on. I contemplated suicide till I got home. When I did something out of my regular routine.

I turned on the radio.

It was already set to a station. I don’t what station it was or how long it’s been on that channel. But that song came on.

His song.

Took me a fraction of a second to realize it was his song, but it took me a whole minute to realize that for the first time in my life a tear rolled out of my eye. I finally heard the song. I finally listened to that song. I took the time to for the first time crack the iron casket that I placed my soul in. I turned up the volume. The base from the song banged on my heart. The vibrations of the tenors pulled at the strings connected to my soul. The voice of the lady who sung cracked the chains binding my soul to the nothingness I condemned it to. I pumped that son of gun. I blasted it till the whole world could hear. Emotions poured out of me. His song that was his escape knew the key to my life. I was finally free, finally alive.

My father barged in screaming and hollering, for the first time in his life he tried to be a father. It was too late. I looked at him and smiled. For some reason this infuriated him. My smile grew. I didn’t know I could smile. My cheeks hurt I was smiling so hard at this point.

I thought those muscles couldn’t, wouldn’t work. But now that I exploit them. It feels good. He screams and hollars but his voice is toned out by the music.

Fear, sadness, happy, excited, and more took turns to express their thanks in letting them out of their cage as I slowly turned to my father. I clutched his head with the back of my hand pulled him close to me and said in his ear. “I’m sorry but it’s time I lived. Maybe you should do the same?”

I shut off the music; he sat there stunned and speechless.

Sorrowfully I turned the music off. I began to pack.

I was lost that night. But for the first time in my life I felt like I was where I should be. Lost. I had just realized I had no friends; I had no relatives that would take me in. I was truly alone.

How much more empty could I feel. How much more alone. But I didn’t let it faze me I took in that emotion embraced it, amplified it. How glorious it was.

How many times can I say it? I could feel. I felt alive. How wondrous it was. Even to this day goose bumps litter my body every time I think of that day. Every time I relive that moment I feel more and more alive.

I walked aimlessly for hours trying to experience anything I could. I listened to myself and I listened to others. I tried to feel others. The iron maiden that contained my soul had been crushed to smithereens and I my soul left free to sore.

How odd it was to finally feel alive

Let me go home.

I miss you, you know.

Let me go home

Because I have had my run and I want to go home.

I caught little of those words from a song that blasted threw some speakers from an electronics shop that I had just passed. Those words resonated to the very foundation of my soul.

His voice was so desperate, so many feelings so many. I just broke down. I dropped to my knees and cried more.

People just avoided me. They walked around me; some even tried to run over me. At that point I didn’t pay much attention didn’t much care, I had so many tears pent up inside. They just needed to get out.

An elderly woman. Stopped cold in her tracks. I didn’t notice how long she stood there. But I only realized she was there when she placed her hand on my shoulder. At this point I didn’t care to look up. Until another hand was placed on my other shoulder. People where gathering around me.

I still didn’t have the energy, still the flood gates of the Hoover damn stayed open to relieve some pressure from my heart. A third smaller hand reached out and grabbed my right. I looked up to this young girl, blond hair blue eyes. An angel on earth. What I remember most about her was that she just radiated love.

I looked at her and said quietly “It’s a good day to be alive.”

She didn’t respond, she just approached me and gave me a hug. My heart sunk, unconditional love. I’ve heard of it, and this day for the first time ever I felt it.

We sat there for what seemed an eternity, and she spoke to me, “You can call me fruit tart, that’s what my Mr. Melon head calls me.”

I smiled exuberantly and showered her with thanks. When I finally found the strength, I lifted myself to my feet and repeated my thanks to all that surrounded me.

People from all walks of life where around me at that time, some holding hands some hugging some stands clapping. It was a good day to be alive.