I come to the same conclusion every couple of crises – music saves my life. Music allows me to feel disbanded from my misery, to alleviate the tragedy the woman in me creates. It is so intense that no masochistic inclination refutes it. Music isn’t real or fictional – it is primal, unmediated by cognition or consciousness.
For some reason, my recollection tells me that, for a significant amount of time, I managed to avoid drowning in the pool of r/dejection. I can’t remember the pattern of thought I came up with in order to avoid being swallowed by the waves, but my ability to rationalize my experience certainly saved me the agony of desiring more and more of the pleasure of fantasymbiosis. How do I relearn it today? in my current relationship?
The Author
