Do you ever feel like you’re dying in your sleep? Your mind is stuck on the same level of your life, trying to defeat the same dream you have on repeat? It’s like a song you can’t even dare to rewind because if you do, you’ll break the music player and though you try, it only makes you see that the chords you have chosen to rewind is actually your favorite part of the song that haunts you in your sleep.
But even though you break your heart, skin your fingertips as you strum the guitar, slide them gently over the black and white keys of the piano, blow your soul into the flute, or send the shivers of a violin in the room, you wouldn’t be here without music.
I wish I was music, falling into the ears of hopeless lovers and consuming their veins and coating their skin with lyrics instead of giving them grief with my presence. I wish.
YOU ARE READING
11:11
Casualedear stray eyelashes, ladybugs, dark tunnels, wishbones, dandelions, pennies, shooting stars, 11:11, and birthday candles, when will you do your job?
