tonight I listened to Jacob Collier play "in the real early morning" (a song I put on when I feel heavy, but I don't know why, so I listen to it to bring the deep routed sadness/hope up and out.)
i have listened to it after sighing loudly at 3.48am, eyes itchy but brain awake. Or staring out a taxi window, drunk, thoughts messy, tears streaming down silently.
So I stand at the back of the venue. I try to sing along, but he carries his words on a different path than I'm used to; so this is not a time to sing, this is a time to listen.
And so I do. I rest myself into the music. And it's almost too much.
I allow my brain to flicker through all of the images I am scared of; faces of my family, old homes, familiar places that aren't so familiar to me any more. It hurts so much, but god, it's so beautiful.
It is my therapy.
My trauma, accompanied by waves of chords and simple phrases that mean so much in this specific moment.
I let go; I explore the places in my head I am scared to.
It is my drug.
This is all very dramatic. I'm trying and failing to express to you just how much I didn't want this song, this full, incredible moment to ever end. It was so, much. And it was wonderful.