Page 2 of Sing for Me
I boot up a match-three game and click the shiny tiles mindlessly. I don't feel any thrill when the gems match and explode. In fact, the cutesy graphics are grating my nerves.
But I need something to occupy my hands and my mind. The game keeps my eyes busy. The radio keeps my ears busy. Between the two, my head fills with mindless chatter. Usually, that would annoy me. Not right now. Right now, mindless chatter is my saving grace. Mindless chatter is the only thing keeping me from sinking into oblivion.
After an hour, I switch to playing FreeCell. An hour of that and my eyes and hands get tired. It's late. I'm tired. Maybe I'll be able to fall asleep.
I push my laptop aside, brush my teeth, change into my pajamas, and get back into bed.
It's a hot night, but I don't feel that either. I can't feel anything but the dryness in my eyes and the heaviness in my heart.
The song switches from a Nirvana classic to an inviting guitar riff. I haven't heard it before.
Which means it's new. I listen to this station non-stop. I know every song they play.
The riff is moody and catchy. Then the bass and drums are kicking in, and I can feel the song everywhere.
The singer's voice flows into my ears. He's groaning with this unspeakable pain. This song is loud and big and incredibly rock 'n' roll, but somehow he's singing to me.
He's singingforme.
I only catch bits and pieces of the verse.Can't sleep. No... recovery.
I only catch hints of the chorus.A minute here and then you're gone.
I close my eyes and focus all my attention on the song. It doesn't help me pick out the words of the second verse. I'm too caught up in the singer's pain. He knows how this feels. He knows how badly this hurts.
This time, I catch every word of the chorus.
That word, a joke, you laugh.
"Running away again, kid?"
A minute here
and then you're gone.
I catch snippets of the third verse.
Four weeks now.
That hole, that dread.
I can barely breathe
Four weeks now. That's an eternity. That hole, that dread, that inability to breathe—every inch of my being knows those awful feelings.
Every inch of my being is sure that this song is about exactly what I'm going through.
I listen closely in hopes of the D.J. spilling the name or the band, but he doesn't. He switches right intoEverlongby the Foo Fighters. Normally, I appreciate the song, even if it's a little overplayed. Right now, it goes right through my ears.
I need to hear that song again.
It's doing something to me, sparking something in me.
I tap the lyrics that come to me into the search bar of my computer.That hole, that dread, I can barely breathe.
There. The page fills with lyrics sites. Sinful Serenade.In Pieces. I read over the lyrics again and again. Each time, my stomach twists. It hurts, and somehow that's both worse and better than feeling nothing.
My heart is heavier and lighter at the same time.
