It seemed so implausible, as days became weeks of endless frustration in front of iTunes alone, flipping through tracks, unsastified. How can someone so thoroughly obsessed with music, with lyrics, find herself glaring at over 7000 tracks, unable to find one that captures how she feels?
How, indeed. I’ve always painted my feelings with lyrics. It’s how I’ve survived. It’s why I started this project: it was a way, with a link, with a song, to keep a diary for a year of my life. In all honesty, I felt it would be my last year, a strange dark foreboding that led to my firmly delineating the path fate was taking me on, come hell or high water. Why resist? I’ve seen Final Destination. Eventually, your time is up.
But back to the mission of the last several months:
No song seemed good enough. No song felt true to that sense of a room growing brighter in his presence. No song seemed to encapsulate all of the struggle, all of the politics, that surrounded something so beautiful, I cannot choose but feel that a jealous coveting of what we have is what spurs people on. In our semi-secrecy, demanded by ridiculous regulations – for how can you regulate human emotion’s deepest ocean? – the world does not exist. Only we do. And ‘we’ is a wonderful little state in which I’d happily build a modest, funky home and fill it with cats and music and probably vodka coolers and strawberry beer.
I flip through songs at his request and out of routine ritual before a concert I wish to see descends upon my city. For weeks, I have ached to find a way to see a band. It’s been driving me mad. I’ve marvelled at the fact that said band is beloved by both our exes, a chuckle to myself. And then, in the midst of the iPod blaring in my ears at work as I type a dreary report, a quote sticks.
I’ve found it.
Relationships are not all beauty and sexual passion. They are work, and those who don’t believe this to be so, those who are unprepared for the days when love is hard, will never hold onto it. I’m not one to give up easily. I’ve always been a fighter, and I know when something – or someone – is worth fighting for. Worth suffering for. Worth treasuring, and caring for in times of need. And frankly, let the silly hounds chase us down. Let them babble and bubble with their jealousy. I’m ready to hit back, with everything I have – and I have everything, in him.
Love is our resistance.
Day 177: Resistance – Muse