madly

"I follow in your shadow

I make a phone call

I become thrilled at the sound of your shaking breath

My heart runs after your increasingly quick steps

I think I’ll go crazy

The long night gets darker

Under the dead streetlamp in front of your house

I’m watching you through the crack in your window

Until the night ends

Come on and find me

You keep playing a suffocating game of hide-and-seek with me

You, you, you

You’re inseparable from me"

--"Going Crazy" by Song Ji Eun ft. Bang Yong Guk

This voice--husky, raspy, deep as a rumbling cello--is intoxicating. Entranced, I drown in a haze, swallowed by this lucid dream I can't claw my way out of. In the warm darkness, I allow myself to forget everything.

I wake up this morning before my alarm with a single thought already germinating my head. It's one that hasn't crossed my mind in a while, though it was a frequent visitor about four or five years ago.

What's the point of it all?

My addiction to this voice (or rather, His voice and anyone else's who reminds me of His--sorry BYG) is not simply a symptom of an affection-starved infliction. The parts of my fractured life are all tied together by this common thread. Under the depths of these songs, I am reminded of three things. One, is that no matter what kind of shitty jackasses I encounter, there are still 7 billion people on this planet, and one of them (whom I have never met) has the ability to calm me with merely the sound of his voice. Two, is that I don't believe that the prince miraculously happens upon the goose girl, the scullery maid, the diamond in the rough, outside of romance novels and fairy tales. The only way the girl can meet the prince on equal footing is if she rises to his status. Three, as I wonder what is the meaning of my existence, I come to the conclusion that if I want to make a meaningful contribution to this world and rise to a station of influence, the most probable method I foresee in my future is to write.

I must write.