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Sometimes I wish there was no such thing as music.



If it only didn’t exist, I would spend a fraction of the time that I do on trying to avoid being crushed to death by nostalgia.


I hate that there are SO MANY songs that I hear and lots of times am not affected by…but then I hear one of them, or a group of them from the same time of my life, and I remember all these things that it does me no end of ill to remember.


And then I get the sickening feeling that maybe the universe is out to get me, since just as nostalgia is backing me into a corner, I get an invitation to go back.



It’s all wrong.

I shouldn’t be so easy to trap.




But…then I have to acknowledge that I don’t know what I would do if this didn’t happen. I can’t imagine coming to a time in my life where I realise one day, “huh…all those pesky memories have no effect on me anymore,” and shrug and go about my business.



I guess what actually worries me is the times when I hear the music from when I was dead. The other songs usually have some good memories associated with them, but the ones from when I was dead…*shudder*


There is a feeling I used to get, and it was utterly Black.

I never want to feel that way again, but sometimes when things hit me just right, I can feel its ghost creeping over me. It’s a terrible feeling.