Self and song.

“It’s like walking, just one key after the other. Keep moving, because it hurts too fucking much to stay put. It’s the illusion that I’m going somewhere, or going away from something. I’m moving, so I must be alive. I can’t die, because music isn’t really alive. It’s an equation. A sensation. A fleeting thought that runs too fast through your head to be heard. An idea that lingers and drives you insane until you have to play it. To move is to blur the line between self and song.”

Dead On My Feet

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Haunting memories

“I was tired. And not just sleepy tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of constantly straddling the line between reality and unconsciousness and never being able to fully experience either one. I would give anything to just feel normal again. To be able to walk somewhere and have the ability to actually fucking register everything that was going on around me. I was tired. And completely fucking terrified that I’d never get the chance to know anything different.”

Edward Cullen, Wide Awake