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It’s moments like these when the thing I want most is for you to hear me. If only we could tune out the noise.

Listen. To my words, my songs, to the way I resonate and to the way my heartstrings vibrate. Hauntingly beautiful lyrics and melody. There’s a pain and melancholy to their beauty, as if the past and future swirled into each other like melted ice cream. Just like the end and the beginning were suddenly focused into a tiny, elusive, ever-changing point of the needle we like to call the present. Can you feel the almost unbearable rawness of this open wound your soul turns into when realising what being present genuinely means?

It’s lucky these moments pass so quickly, or else we’d be paralysed by the intensity of feeling so tremendously: what was, intertwined with what will be, what was felt with what was not, but could have been and could yet be. Tremendous, unimaginable, overwhelmingly grand this fleeting moment when your soul feels like it might escape the physical limitations of the body and expand to infinity.

A state of delirium we almost instantaneously snap out of. It’s almost like a dream that you can already feel drifting away the split second you open your eyes. You turn off the alarm and try to recall it, recapture it, go back inside that maddening intensity that made you so happy and so sad at the same time, but there’s no use. Perhaps we’re not made for such deep and permanent understanding, albeit instinctual rather than rational.

The rest of the time is mostly moments when what we want most is to be heard.

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