I Blame My Lack of Y Chromosome.

Many of you will know about my love for music. I’ve posted about it before, and I think I mention it quite a bit, too! The reasons why are pretty simple: I love the way certain music makes me feel; I love dancing; I love singing; I like air-guitaring; I love gigs; I love how when I listen to certain songs, I feel like they were written just for me; and most importantly, I’m on that lifelong journey to compile the world’s most perfect playlist (which, by the way, I have almost completed! There’ll be a blog post to follow…)

Along with all that lovely, beautiful stuff, there are some awful downsides to music: there is a ridiculous amount of god-awful, shitey excuses for music, which somehow tend to be the most popular songs – please someone explain how that happens?

Another massive negative goes along with one of the reasons why I love music – the way it makes me feel.

I listen to music, all the damn time. Everyone knows it. I end up associating certain songs with certain people, and that is great! For example:

–       Here’s To Us by Halestorm makes me think of Rebekah

–       A Little Piece of Heaven by Avenged Sevenfold makes me think of Tas (because apparently it makes him think of me)

–       This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race by Fall Out Boy reminds me of everyone at Reading 2K13

–       Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford & Sons reminds me of Harry

–       Run The World by Beyoncé reminds me of Kajal

–       King for a Day reminds me of Siobhan, and our drunken singing to it when we saw Pierce the Veil

You get the idea. I could go on and on, I have so many memories with so many different songs, it amazing! The bad thing is what happens when a certain song reminds you of a bad memory? How do you cope with that? How do you go from loving a song so very much, to having a full on attack of melancholy, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and listen to the song on repeat forever? (Only for a fleeting second, of course. Although lying in bed listening to music forever seems like the most perfect life, ever!)

I wish I could help whoever’s going through this right now. The pain of having to relive sad memories when listening to an amazing song is one of the worst feelings. Except, I don’t really get sad, I just get really mad. Like, ‘slap-you-in-the-face-with-a-chair’ kind of mad. My only weakness is the fact that I’m so bad at confrontation, I’d rather just sit in my sad/mad/smad state and be sad/mad/smad, rather than go to the person that’s making me feel so sad/mad/smad and call them out on their shit. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, I don’t want to do that!

Honestly, all the constant worrying over random shit that no longer matters really does get on my tits. And then it’s like “why am I being such a stereotypical WOMAN?!” Why do women have the natural instinct to worry non-stop, and be worried about how they’ve treated someone else? (I’m talking generically, here, there are some straight up bitches that I’ve met, who could not care less about the way they treat other people). It just seems that guys, more than girls, have the ability to just shrug stuff off and move on a bit easier. I can’t do that, and I’m blaming it all on that bloody Y-chromosome I don’t have!

Getting back to it – my only piece of advice to try and move on from those shitty memories is to just surround yourself with friends, get drunk, be merry, and go ahead and create a brand new memory that makes you feel amazing about yourself! If it’s a song, then play that song and make it happy again. If it’s a place that’s been ruined for you, then go back to that place, and make it amazing for you again! Honestly, I don’t really know what else you can do. Unless crying and screaming and shouting sounds good and helpful to you? In which case, you go ahead and cry and scream and shout! And then continue being the fabulous person you know you are. And if you ever feel like you can’t help the way you are, then just blame your genes.

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