Music can take me back more than any other media. Or sense. Even new songs that are of a certain familiar style. It can happen very suddenly that I’m a productive member of the human race, working away diligently and with contentment in my soul, and then Spotify will switch to a song and the work drops away as I listen closely to the lyrics. An hour later, I’m in a music spiral, with the door locked and nothing to show for my time except for cheap thoughts and scribbled out sticky notes.
This is one of those sticky notes.
What does it mean to be fucked up? It can be explanation. It can be freedom. All the feelings and events that lead from it make sense to me. And more importantly, they feel good.
(Flip over)
And so you have to make a choice not to act on being fucked up. Or you have to be honest about it. And I find it weirdly true that once you’re honest, and therefore own it, it’s no longer fucked up.
