I miss the way the night comes with friends who always make you feel good

What’s bad is when there’s a certain song that you have with someone that before you’ve so much as seen this person naked, already evokes the feeling of a thousand break-up songs playing in your brain at once. A real deep-rooted hurt, illogically vivid and real. Within those first few haunting notes, you already have a thousand tiny memories of hearing this song and looking up into their eyes with that perfect kind of lust, that perfect kind of longing that’s never been made imperfect by letting it draw you out past its boundaries. It’s a lonely-sounding song: always is. Gnaws at you. It knows what you’re thinking, just like that other person does. Just like that other person does, it lets you know, it vocalizes what you’re feeling without ever actually vocalizing it directly. Just hints. And it gets to the point where when it comes on at the party or at the bar or a passing radio or karaoke, the response is kneejerk. You look up. You search that person out. You could be in the middle of something really important and time consuming and your whole being screams at you to stop what you’re doing, find them, and just be near them. Never mind the facts. Never mind why it’s stupid. The id and the ego and the superego, bickering constantly and who are you to get in the middle of them. Within the song, there is a subtextual promise that time will freeze for you and nothing will change. No one will get hurt. They look up right back at you and it’s all you can do not to hop over that coffeetable and say something crazy, something like “fuck everyone let’s get out of here right now and never come back” and that is a terrifying feeling because you know that if they said yes you would totally do it and because there is a very real part of you that is sure for the briefest of seconds that if you went over there, they would absolutely say yes.

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