It Was Becoming Clear To Me That

I Sat Up, Sliding Them Off, And The Quiet Around Me Did Not, For Once, Seem Empty And Vast. Instead, For The First Time In A While, It Felt Like It Already Was Full.

He Shook His Head. "some People Think That They Like Music, But They Have No Idea What It's Really About. They're Kindding Themselves. Then There Are People Who Feel Strongly About Music, But Just Aren't Listening To The Right Stuff. They're Misguided. And Then There Are People Like Me." "people Like You," I Said. "what Kind Of People Are Those?" "the Kind Who Live For Music And Are Constantly Seeking It Out, Anywhere They Can. Who Can't Imagine A Life Without It. They're Enlightened."

I Remembered Owen Telling Me How Music Had Saved Him In Phoenix, That It Drowned Everything Out, And It Was The Same For Me Now. As Long As I Had Something To Listen To, I Could Blur The Things I Didn't Want To Think About, If Not Block Them Out Completely.

Whenever You Made A Choice, Especially One You'd Been Resisting, It Always Affected Everything Else, Some In Big Ways, Like A Tremor Beneath Your Feet, Others In So Tiny A Shift You Hardly Noticed A Change At All. But It Was Happening.

So Many Times It Seemed Like There Were Chances To Stop Things Before They Started. Or Even Stop Them In Midstream. But It Was Even Worse When You Knew In That Very Moment That There Was Still Time To Save Yourself, And Yet You Couldn't Even Budge.