the threads in her head

Unfinished songs.

I have not been listening to songs for a while. No, it wasn't a conscious choice made by me. Just circumstances. Just the media player refusing to play music clips. Just the names of songs scattered among my files.

I thought I would have liked some music to accompany me for a while. But turned out I survived without any. Work continued, fingers still typed (dare I say earnestly?) on the keyboard. They danced when I was excited, and knew exactly what I had to type out next. Like someone had burst back to life and now had to hurry, hurry to got all things done and said, because time is running running out.

But it's one thing to say hello to someone through messenger, and another to come to this page. To recount, or try to capture. To run people through events, or to try to focus on the emotions, and capture them fully.

I thought I would like to focus on emotions. The abstract. But lately the snapshots are turning out incomplete. I've clicked the shutter, I've tried, but my camera is never aimed right. And I'll miss the most significant.

Nothing seems right at this time. And it's all unfinished songs. Just unfinished songs.

And I'm trying not to cry whenever I hear them.