When the world closes in,  
when the weight of it all feels too much,  
I find the sound.  
It doesn’t matter where it begins—  
a single note, a voice, a beat—  
it wraps around me like a second skin.  

I turn the volume up,  
higher, higher,  
until the voices in my head—  
the ones that tell me I’m not enough—  
are drowned in the flood of melody.  
I let the rhythm take me,  
let it carve a path through my insecurities,  
let it silence the noise of doubt.  

It doesn’t matter the genre.  
A symphony, a scream, a whisper—  
it all speaks the same language.  
It all knows me.  
The songs say what I can’t,  
feel what I’m too afraid to feel.  
Every lyric an open hand,  
every chord a heartbeat I can follow.  

I lose myself in it,  
and somehow, I find myself too.  
The music doesn’t ask who I am,  
it doesn’t care what I’ve done.  
It just is.  
It holds me steady  
when the world tilts sideways.  

And in that moment,  
there is nothing but the sound.  
No pain, no fear, no doubt.  
Just the hum of life,  
the pulse of love,  
the escape I never knew I needed.  

Because music isn’t just sound—  
it’s a place.  
A home where I can be whole,  
where I can be free.

I miss you.  
Against my will, against my better judgment,  
I miss you.  
It’s a quiet ache,  
a hollow in my chest that echoes your name.  
I hate that it’s still there,  
that you’re still there.  

You left scars where love should have been.  
You built walls where trust should have stood.  
And yet,  
in the silence of the night,  
I still hear your voice,  
soft and cruel,  
pulling me back to a place I swore I’d never return.  

You were a storm,  
beautiful and destructive,  
and I stood in the eye of it,  
thinking I could hold you,  
thinking I could save you.  
But you tore through me,  
left me wrecked and raw,  
and still,  
I miss you.  

I shouldn’t.  
I know I shouldn’t.  
You don’t deserve the space you take in my mind,  
the weight you still carry in my heart.  
But the memories linger,  
like smoke in an empty room,  
and I breathe them in,  
even though they choke me.  

You taught me how to hurt.  
You taught me how to break.  
But I taught myself how to leave.  
And I won’t go back,  
not to you,  
not to the pain,  
not to the person I was when I loved you.  

Still,  
I miss you.  
And it hurts.  
But I’ll carry that hurt,  
because it’s lighter than the burden of you.