Faith No More - Helpless
25 songs, 25 days, day 2- A song that reminds you of your ex.
There comes a time when you need to let go of the insistence you have on attaching songs to emotions. With certain songs, anyhow. Or entire albums. Or bands. When your enjoyment of something that used to bring you great pleasure is so wrapped up in feelings of negativity, you need to learn how to separate those things. It’s hard. Songs bring up leftover emotions like vomit and every time you try to listen to that one song or that one album you end up puking up feelings all over the place. No one’s going to hold your hair back for that. No one.
There comes a time when you don’t want to dredge up those memories anymore, when you’re no longer comfortable rehashing the mistakes, the yelling, the silence, the arguments, the standoffs, that one scene in the supermarket. Jesus, were there ever good times? Did anything good come out of that at all? You wrack your brain trying to think of something to take away the sting the music brings but there’s nothing. If there were smiles, if there were laughs, they have all been long suffocated in this coffin of bad memories.
There comes at time when you want to pretend those years didn’t even exist and you might be able to to do that if you could just burn all those photographs and never, ever listen to these albums again. The photographs, ok. You really don’t need them. But the albums? They existed before the bullshit. They weren’t part of it. They were on the periphery, somewhere out there with the little voices of reason and warning that were telling you not to do this. It all became background noise until later, when your subconscious suddenly woke the hell up and said “Oh yea, remember this song? Here. Here is every detail of that drive you made in the snow and here is every detail of that one horrific night and here is every detail of every mistake you made along the way and every time you almost made the right decision but didn’t and I’m going to tie it all into this one song because hey, I’m lazy like that and doesn’t the opening to this tune taste like a bottle of gin?”
There comes a time when you need to tell your subconscious to shut the fuck up. There comes a time when you have to tell your memories to quiet down. There comes a time when you have to force yourself to listen to this song and remember that you once loved it before your brain decided to make it the opening and closing ceremony theme to your heartbreak olympics. There comes a time when you’re not going to feel the tears start up as he says “all the poetry is lost” or “where’s my place?” or “help me please someone.”
There comes a time. That time isn’t now. But it will come. Soon.