Lyric desperation

Not every sentimental song fits what I feel. I find myself listening closely, though, trying to relate. I even relisten, knowing that the lyrics aren't quite right. There are a good handful of songs I've collected in my playlist, but for some reason I keep trying to grab for more. Just how many songs do I need to claim to be satisfied? I suppose that's the wrong question to ask.

Words, melodies, actions? Perhaps no amount of them will satisfy my need. Need for expression? Specifically, expression to you. Should I ever even be satisfied with how I've expressed myself? Perhaps I should always hunger to weave or discover things that take these feelings and give them form.

I should perhaps put aside finding my words in different lyrics. I haven't even memorized lyrics of the songs I have found. Maybe I should learn just what I've tried to say so far.

The wrong freedom

Freedom is an odd thing. It can amount to anything. The freedom to do something great and helpful, versus the freedom to destroy and bury. To defend freedom requires that one give up some amount of one's own freedom. By exercising freedom, one often encroaches on that of another person. Life isn't about being free, I think. It's about holding hands, whether termed restraints or bonds.

In the past years, I've found freedom with you. We took each other to experiences we'd never reached before. But I found many of the wrong freedoms. I did lovely stuff with you, but when it came to doing something spectacular I was too intimidated. I thought of constraints that were hardly even there, and I let them keep us back. However, emotional constraints came undone more easily. Maybe it was the rawness of your expression that frayed those constraints and let me act out.

I feel that losing you has changed that completely. Those emotional constraints are quite strongly back in place, maybe regenerated by the tears that refused to be shed. Those spectacular things I wouldn't do before are so clearly in reach, now that I see how insignificant those other constraints were. Well, perhaps I was unshackled back when I took you to the beach that night. I now know which of these freedoms is right and which is wrong.