Seven years ago, I was introduced to a song that would forever change my life, a song that would become an anthem, an autobiography I could sing in the late night when disheartened or driving towards a light at the end of my murky tunnels.
That song, from an album that to this day remains a top twenty, is the title track, Haunted, by a vastly underappreciated singer named Poe.
I frequently quote the lyrics for the song, drawing my primary online identity from my favourite line: Time to gather up the splinters, build a casket for my tears.” It seemed fitting in its imagery as I began a quest to find happiness after years of misery in childhood. I wanted – needed – to bury the past somehow.
I can’t say I’ve managed to keep it all beneath the ground; the dirt shifts loose, and tendrils wriggle free to snag my ankles, twisting and pulling me back to my knees. But along the way, I’ve found a dull blade. It saws through slowly, but surely, buying moments of reprieve.
I need something sharper. I need a cleaner break. I need to exorcise the lingering spirits that wander behind me, delicate shadows darkening my periphery.
I need to no longer be haunted.
Day 103: Haunted – Poe