when i stopped writing, i stopped listening to myself

Sometimes I look at my dog and think "She looks depressed." Just lying on her side, eyes open, staring at a wall or something. Is that how I look when I lie on my bed and space out?

Thinking for me is like... well a lot of things. It could be like when you dig through a record collection, and you see one you like. You put your hand there, and keep flipping through. After awhile, the records become too heavy and you have to decide: go back to that record you saw earlier, or let go of it, and look at the one you've found, or keep searching.

My thoughts are little hazy clouds that float around my eyes and somehow I can see them as clear as if they were happening in front of me. But my memory switches around, since it is telling a story. I can think of what other people saw, felt, said, and view myself in third person.

Let's talk about Emo. What ever happened to the mental and musical movement that influenced so much of my adolescence and young adulthood? Any overthinking teenager at the time welcomed the themes of relationships and growing up differently than others. This contemplation need not go on any further because I just realized what it was I was trying to get at, and I understand now. Losing a girlfriend is not the worst thing that could happen to you.

But let's keep talking. A big thanks to Tron who told me about this song Young Bride by Midlake. I've been listening to it almost non-stop for the better part of an hour. They say that scent is the sense that is tied strongest to memory, but when I listen to certain songs, the notes conjure specific memories for me almost every time. So I think, "When I listen to this song a year from now, I'll probably remember talking to Erin, and how I felt during that conversation."