As someone who finds pieces of their soul in the lyrics and melody of songs, I am often slammed with the obsessive need to listen to a song over and over again until I memorize every inflection, every riff, every breath. Every piece that makes that song what it is until it becomes a part of me. Then I move on to the next, because on every playlist, there is always a next.
But the thing about these “obsession songs” is that, like I said, they become a part of me, and so that love never dies, even after I’m twenty songs down the list.
This song is one of those. This song brought me comfort on many anxiety stricken nights in my late teens and early twenties when all I could do was listen to music to keep myself from fallen into a full-fledged panic. This song played on the radio through memories I cherish, and memories I once wished to forget. This song inspired poems, journal entries, and my fleeting crush on Chris Cornell’s eyes and arms. This song…
These singers, they give me something when they inadvertently give me these songs, and in turn, I give them a piece of me. I give them my loyalty, my time, my affection. I give them a piece of my heart, no matter how big or small. It doesn’t matter; a piece is a piece.
I learned with the passing of Scott Weiland in 2015 that when they die, they take that piece with them.
The hole is pretty big with this one.
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