Pathetic, really.

Can a song change a life?

God I hope so. Sometimes, a song is all you have. A song someone else wrote, for someone else. You intrude. You make it your own. Borrowed words for borrowed feelings. Like using someone else's toothbrush. You fall in love with those words and loop them in your headphones. And me? I pick up my guitar and make believe it was me who wrote them in the first place. Pathetic really. But then, like I said, we are little people, you and I. Aren't we?

We lip sync. Unknowingly; together. We smile at the same parts and we close our eyes and try as hard as we can to push everything else but the music away. For those twenty six minutes and five seconds, it rains novocaine. Then the song gets over. Like a crash landing plane, it all comes back. It all comes back.

I always think that the happiest man on the planet doesn't need music. I always wish my favourite song was silence.

One day, I will write the most beautiful song in the world. And keep it to myself.

Ha.