Lying in bed, sprawled out on my stomach,- starfished. My iPod's drumming along to Florence and The Machine's Heavy In Your Arms, and I'm all weary and teary eyed. A song that seems to have been haunting me for days. I just can't seem to get the lyrics out of my head, or stop them flowing out of my mouth at any given opportunity. My head is pounding as the beat sounds over and over. Florence Welch has an amazing ability; she manages to capture how I'm feeling right now with such precision and exactness that there are no more words necessary. As I lie here, alone in the darkness, with only the light of my phone's screen (on which I'm drafting this, so beware, this is a "late" post) for company, I feel like I'm about to break in two. Text messages: zero. Tweets: all irrelevant tonight. Phone Calls: of course not.
It's the early hours of Saturday morning, and usually (okay, this time for about two months) I'd be found at the pub, knocking back tequila like there's no tomorrow, with anyone who'd join me. However, tonight is different. Tonight's refuge seems depressing, but it's all for a good cause. I've forced myself to stay in. Partly, to know that I'm not drinking myself into a vodka and lime flavoured oblivion, partly because it's necessary. I've barricaded the doors and bolted the windows and all that jazz. This isn't just some severe form of self-gratifying punishment, it's an attempt to save my pennies before I jet off to Ibiza with my two fave girls. 8th July, I'm counting down the days.
Despite my excitement, I've had a pretty shit day. A rude awakening on my part, I started the day with my dad hollering up the stairs, telling me to "get out of bed." Little did I know, my Friday would only go downhill from there. A little shopping was done, but it was full of effort, my mind being woefully preoccupied with a lack of coffee, sleep and genuine smiles all used up many weeks ago. To say I feel worthless today would be the biggest understatement ever. I'm an emotional wreck and it's sort of unexplainable. I sat watching EastEnders and was in tears. I'm an emotional person anyway, but today's been different. I feel like I've had to bite my lip to stop myself from tearing up at every little thing. The rain. The lack of sleep. The no energy. Trailing my feet around the shops, when shopping may be one of the things I was born to do. A smile nowhere to be seen, especially not donned on my face. I don't even know why. I think it's what they call "one of those days."A day that just seems to be drenched in negativity, even if you maybe secretly know why and try your utmost to hide it from yourself.
Anyway, I'm still lying here. Exhaustion is catching up with me, as the yawns take over and my iPod continues. Coldplay's Warning Sign may be my favourite song at the moment. Chris Martin's voice makes me melt. The strumming of guitars and the beautiful melody behind his rich tones makes me want to sing along and sway in unison. Everyone has favourite lyrics, right? That bit of a song you sing extra loud, has a special meaning, or a catchy beat. The personal few words you always wait and long for, and when they arrive, they're wonderful and brilliant and you sing at the top of your lungs.
And, here's mine;
"Well the truth is, I miss you. And the truth is, that I miss you so."
Sometimes a piece of music can explain exactly how your feel, even if you can't put your own emotions into words. Between Florence and Coldplay, I feel like I understand how my head is working tonight, and how, evidently, the tears are rolling so effortlessly down my cold cheeks. Even if the lyrics don't echo my own words, or my own situation exactly translated, it's everything combined that enables me to really get what I need. The meaning of any words, or lyrics, is entirely up to you. They're what you want them to be. You can ignore the lyrics altogether if you want and listen to the artist's voice, and only then, will you really, truly understand what they're singing about.
Well. In my eyes, anyway. A song isn't about the semantics of the lyrics or the beat or the instruments present or the setting it was written in, it's about every single little one of those things combined, as well as you. The listener. The audience. A song is, after all, only as powerful as the impact it has on it's listeners. So, whether you're feeling down or happy and grinny, reach for the radio dial, the television remote or the nearest music player you can get your hands on. Shuffle through, find your mood music, and let it take over. Sometimes, it's all you'll ever need.
and the truth is, that I miss you so.