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22. music as a metaphor or something

A few weeks ago I asked my facebook friends for their happy-bouncy song recommendations because I was in a dark place and I thought it was a way of reaching out, of engaging with people in a meaningful way because I didn't want to be alone.

And more people sent me recommendations than I expected, and friends who I didn't think would respond (as well as people who didn't respond that I assumed would. huh. anywho...)

When I tried some of the jams, they didn't click with me.

They didn't give me the joy that I was looking for, nor the joy that my happy-bouncy songs give me.

But they give joy to other people.

Though I can understand that that's possible, I didn't feel that truth. I just know it to be true because I believe it when my friends told me that these songs mean something to them. That it makes them happy. That it connected with them and brought out good feels.

And though I gave them more than one listens, some songs just didn't... feel good.

And it made me think about empathy.

And how thought you may not personally understand something to be true, try believing the people talking that it's true for them, and don't just write it off as incorrect. As lies.

Yeh.

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there are competing thoughts in my head:

- you don't know enough to disseminate your thoughts

- writing is just a way to think out loud, not preach to a congregation

- none of your thoughts are original

- no one's thoughts are

- white people will laugh at you

- well, if you're afraid of that, might as well do nothing

- people will laugh at you, of all races

- isn't that comforting? knowing you'll be laughed at regardless?

- also, people may not laugh, they may not care at all

- but there will be people who do, people who need you to do what you need to do. it's not to boost your ego laura, it's to remind you that what you do is not just about you, it never was.

- just do the thing.

- send the email, write the pieces, submit them, hope for the best

- you've survived heartbreaking rejection before, you can survive professional rejection also (emotionally i mean, maybe panic a liiiiiittle cos you need $$$$$ lol)

- you've got this.

The Great Disappointment

My first heartbreak was when I was 11 or 12 years old.
I met him at church and he was the most beautiful person I'd ever had the pleasure to lay my eyeballs on. He was unironically cool and has shoulder-length curler hair and a side-smile that made me melt.
He smoked (he was my age), and well, after months of me secretly crushing on him, he tells me he likes me too.
I'm skipping straight to this, even though it felt like an eternity of pining before that, in which I had accepted no one as beautiful and glorious as that would look twice at me. There were many girls my age who seemed to have an adult's knowledge of style.
I looked like an awkward tween, my monobrow and mo was doing me no favours.
And yet.
And yet.
And then, to gloss over our months of bliss (I want to keep that to myself for now), my mum found out about us, and made me break up with him.
I could've lied to her and kept seeing him behind her back, but I was a trained obedient kid and I didn't want to …