Why do songs ignite such strong emotional responses?
I’m listening to a playlist by Johny Drille, before we fall asleep, and I’m being reminded of a long lost love. Someone I thought I’d be with for a long time. Someone I was ready to love unconditionally. The reason why he’s associated with the song might be because he introduced me to the musician in the first place. And I imagine him being the musician (because he also makes music, albeit a little more risqué) singing, appealing to a slighted lover. It’s a little ridiculous. He was my king of wands.
Then my mind wanders to Caleb. A beautiful being who made me realize how closed off I was becoming. When I think of him, I think of a fragile teddybear. Someone I want to hug and shower in kisses. No other intentions but pure love. I try to think if I’ve hurt him. How I’ve hurt him. And why I feel bad for his unrequited feelings even though I’m not obliged to reciprocate the same emotional feelings that someone displays towards me. Then I feel bad because I know that he’s an amazing person that I may have missed out on. But I don’t want to hold on to anyone just because of guilt. Innocent love. I’m grateful. Page of cups. A kind of emotional intelligence, a mental stimulant. Essays and arguments and knowledge. Books and practicalities. I love him I think. But in what way? I don’t know yet. I lack the emotional intelligence and experience to decipher this. Matters of the heart and whatnot.
Then I’m reminded of Duke. Duke was stability. Steadiness. He was learning and growing. But it was never deep. We’d have gotten a farm and grown food someday. Steadily worked towards becoming completely sustainable. He was excitement. Mature. King of swords. And I realize that you can match with hundreds of people. You can be compatible with hundreds of people. And you might miss them all. You gave them a little piece of your heart to test the waters and they still hold on to that part. They still have space in your memories. They still take up room in a tiny portion of your life.
But I’m not reminded of this new person that I’m talking to. Mainly because most of Johny’s songs are of appealing to angry lovers or to woo lovers. But this feels neither like either. I don’t know what it feels like. A crush? Fascination? Chemistry? Is there compatibility? He’s that one person that I always want to talk to. It’s this constant joy. This slight laughter that always plays on the lips, most when you pick up your phone. That little giddiness, and that small spark of anxious insecurity—an inbuilt trust issue system. He’s the random conversations that feels unending. It’s as though we are mocking ourselves; it’s sexual and we are not productive together. Our conversations are slightly more important than anything else. It feels like friendship. Purity. Intensity. It feels like love.
Songs. Songs and ignitions.