Some say a song can carry the tune of the heart. If you can play the right song, the melody can carry you to a pleasant memory. Sometimes the songs can take you to a sad or very emotional place. And then other songs have the ability to do an immeasurable amount of damage to ones soul. Music can make you feel a variant of different ways. Even ways you wish you'd never felt.
I made my way to the city bus stop, the hot summer sun beaming down on me. I was lucky I was wearing sunglasses, for if I hadn't I would be blinded for certain. I sat down on the lone open seat on the bench. When I sat it nearly burnt my rear, but with how hot it was out I needed a seat.
Before the bench, sitting on the sidewalk beside the road was a man with long dark hair and a brown leather jacket on. He had his guitar in has lap strumming away with his case next to him that every once in a while, people would drop some money in. I was almost upset by this. I knew he was doing this to raise money to get by, but what if he's a drug addict and they're feeding his addiction by giving him money? Should I call the police?
As the thought crossed my mind, he began playing a song. It might've been the most beautiful song I'd ever heard. It instantly brought back all these good happy memories. I envisioned myself skipping through a field of lavender and honey. Nature looking so much more vibrant. I had never felt more at piece than with the music he played. I almost wanted to get his number, but the bus arrived before I could make any kind of conversation with him. He didn't get on, forcing me to leave behind my new found favorite sound.
The next day, I made my way once again to the bus stop, awaiting yet another painfully long day of work. When I sat on the bench, I was pleased to find that my favorite musician was strumming away at his guitar once again. This time he threw in some singing of his own. The songs he played were ones I didn't recognize. And I was disappointed to find that the music he played didn't soothe me just like it had yesterday.
"Hi," I greeted him, "Can you please play the song you played yesterday? The happy one?"
In response, instead of words, he motioned his hands toward his guitar case beside him. There was no way I was going to donate money to him. I was enjoying his music, why should I have to pay for something that was already free?
I made my way back to my seat and awaited the bus's arrival.
That night, after getting off work, I hop onto the bus and sat, impatiently awaiting my stop. Today had probably been the worst work day this week. People yelling, high stress levels, the threat of losing my job. It all spelled out trouble.
After a few minutes into the ride, I heard the familiar strumming of a guitar. I looked back a few seats behind me, and sure enough, the man from the bus stop was there, playing his music as loud as can be. I grabbed some headache medication and downed a few pills. I didn't want to go off on the guy, but my head felt like it was about to burst.
Soon enough, I had reached my breaking point as he approached my seat. He played a song he hoped would cheer me up but instead made my migraine so much worse. Finally I snapped and told him to leave me alone.
He looked at me for a second without saying a word. He grabbed his guitar and moved back a few seats. He began strumming on his guitar, only this time the music that came out was far darker than anything he'd played before. As he played, I began to get flashbacks of memories that had previously scarred me. A significant other beating me and telling me they'd kill themselves if I talked to my family again. The time I was robbed on the streets. The bullying I endured in high school. All of these things were flooding back to me in an instant.
I looked back at him, screaming in pain. He was just sitting in the back of the bus, glairing at me as he played.
Finally, the bus stopped after what felt like hours of enduring some of the worst experiences of my life.
I made my way to the city bus stop, the hot summer sun beaming down on me. I was lucky I was wearing sunglasses, for if I hadn't I would be blinded for certain. I sat down on the lone open seat on the bench. When I sat it nearly burnt my rear, but with how hot it was out I needed a seat.
Before the bench, sitting on the sidewalk beside the road was a man with long dark hair and a brown leather jacket on. He had his guitar in has lap strumming away with his case next to him that every once in a while, people would drop some money in. I was almost upset by this. I knew he was doing this to raise money to get by, but what if he's a drug addict and they're feeding his addiction by giving him money? Should I call the police?
As the thought crossed my mind, he began playing a song. It might've been the most beautiful song I'd ever heard. It instantly brought back all these good happy memories. I envisioned myself skipping through a field of lavender and honey. Nature looking so much more vibrant. I had never felt more at piece than with the music he played. I almost wanted to get his number, but the bus arrived before I could make any kind of conversation with him. He didn't get on, forcing me to leave behind my new found favorite sound.
The next day, I made my way once again to the bus stop, awaiting yet another painfully long day of work. When I sat on the bench, I was pleased to find that my favorite musician was strumming away at his guitar once again. This time he threw in some singing of his own. The songs he played were ones I didn't recognize. And I was disappointed to find that the music he played didn't soothe me just like it had yesterday.
"Hi," I greeted him, "Can you please play the song you played yesterday? The happy one?"
In response, instead of words, he motioned his hands toward his guitar case beside him. There was no way I was going to donate money to him. I was enjoying his music, why should I have to pay for something that was already free?
I made my way back to my seat and awaited the bus's arrival.
That night, after getting off work, I hop onto the bus and sat, impatiently awaiting my stop. Today had probably been the worst work day this week. People yelling, high stress levels, the threat of losing my job. It all spelled out trouble.
After a few minutes into the ride, I heard the familiar strumming of a guitar. I looked back a few seats behind me, and sure enough, the man from the bus stop was there, playing his music as loud as can be. I grabbed some headache medication and downed a few pills. I didn't want to go off on the guy, but my head felt like it was about to burst.
Soon enough, I had reached my breaking point as he approached my seat. He played a song he hoped would cheer me up but instead made my migraine so much worse. Finally I snapped and told him to leave me alone.
He looked at me for a second without saying a word. He grabbed his guitar and moved back a few seats. He began strumming on his guitar, only this time the music that came out was far darker than anything he'd played before. As he played, I began to get flashbacks of memories that had previously scarred me. A significant other beating me and telling me they'd kill themselves if I talked to my family again. The time I was robbed on the streets. The bullying I endured in high school. All of these things were flooding back to me in an instant.
I looked back at him, screaming in pain. He was just sitting in the back of the bus, glairing at me as he played.
Finally, the bus stopped after what felt like hours of enduring some of the worst experiences of my life.
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