I’ve been standing in the kitchen where the light is flooding in, I’ve shut my eyes and felt it on my face and arms. Trying to let it flood my body with warm joy. But I’m still cold, still dark. I’m trying desperately to feel, in a body that is soggy from heavy doses of antidepressants and antipsychotics. I wait for the crescendo in the piece of music I’m listening to, waiting for the goosebumps to let me know I’m still alive. Music allows me to feel. Emotionally I’m flat, just empty, but music allows me to physically feel, I hope that makes sense. My body reacts to it when my brain doesn’t. It allows me to feel joy, hope, and a miriad of other things, while my brain remains stagnant. Music keeps me human, keeps me remembering that I can experience joy when everything else is telling me I can’t.



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