m e l o d y

O1//your

Friday 15 August 2003, 8:24 p.m.

Music, in a way, is my only friend.

When I am alone, it gives me hope. When I am frustrated, it accompanies me on my runs, echoes my pounding footsteps and gives me focus.

I need it more than anything when I am scared – and hell, I am terrified right now. With shaking hands and shuddering breaths, I must look disgusting, but that's the least of my worries.

What matters most is calming down.

Fumbling with my headphones, I hit play and a song roars to life in my ears. Clutching one of many pillows to my chest, I lie on my bed and study the mottled grey ceiling. I concentrate on breathing in time to the music, and surrender myself to the song.

There is nothing more than this. Only me and the music.

Actually, scratch that. I am the music, and the music is me.

Closing my eyes and shutting out the world, I tell myself that this is it. This song makes up the entire universe, and I am part of it. Not just a bystander, a witness – I am the beat and the beauty, the passion and pulse.

I am the music, and the music is me.

I no longer have control. My thoughts are nothing more than lyrics, and as the beat picks up, my skin hums with energy.

I have a drum in place of a heart, a drum that will pump life through my soul for an eternity and a half. My mind is pitiful to resist, and my whole being screams the chorus.

I am the music, and the music is me.

Infinity is just music, music, music, and nothing else exists.

I have a drum in place of a heart, and there is nothing in the world I could ever want more.