Take what you need, and be on your way.

Stop Crying Your Heart Out, by Oasis.

Apparently, it's a fairly old song, but one that I only recently found. When I first heard it, I was in my car stuck in a traffic jam, heading home. The first verse was fairly unremarkable that first time, and my mind went on to twiddle its imaginary thumbs until the song built up to the slow, grand chorus. And then I got hit by the tidal wave.

Certain songs speak to me on an emotional level so deep and stark, I lose focus in whatever it is that I'm doing at the moment, and just stop to listen to it. I have caught myself completely abandoning all pretense of paying attention to traffic conditions while driving just to listen, really listen to such songs. The fact that I am not yet dead or severely injured from such preoccupations speaks volumes of my autopilot capabilities (Ha!). The combination of the melody, lyrics and tempo of such songs is enough to send my mind hurtling through space and time, feelings of empathy flooding my neural pathways and shocking me with its stark, naked, all-too-real truth.

My mind freezes, I seem to take the song's message all in at once. I begin to develop feelings of euphoria and a sense of wonderment. I am blind and deaf to my surroundings. I ask myself, "Why didn't I see it this way before? It's all so damn obvious!", sometimes without even having a very clear picture of what is being sung about. Even worse, I my eyes well up with tears. In that state of mind, I wouldn't bat an eyelid if angels descended from the heavens in a lazy spiral, playing their lyres and singing sweet nonsensical hymns.

Anyway.

The song spoke to me of some grand, monumental failure, tragedy or disappointment on the part of the subject, and yet the singer still tries to instill some sense of hope that perhaps, the next attempt will succeed. So in the meantime, pick up the pieces of your life, do what you can to survive, because life goes on. And stop crying your heart out. You'll need it for later. Liam Gallagher's vocals are fantastic here, meshing wonderfully with the orchestra, a slow, grand, heart-wrenching chorus that rips reality away so gradually and completely. Or so it seems to me.

This is something that most of us will have gone through at least once in our lives (provided you're not some rich bastard/bitch who reeks of fermentation due to all the spoiling by your parents. If so, go away. I hate you.), the feeling of having your hopes dashed, your dreams shattered, your whole world swept out from under your feet. You're near rock bottom, and things look grim and hopeless, the world feels strangely distant and uncaring. Your friends don't understand. Your family shrugs it off. And all you have is yourself. So the singer comes to you like some friendly stranger who says," Yo. You're pretty screwed, I know. Feels like shit, doesn't it? I know. I've been there too. It feels like you'll never recover from it, damn the world to hell and back again. I'm hopeless. I'm destroyed. I'm nothing. It has finally come to pass, the world as I know it is gone, will never come back again. And yet, all I'm saying is, you can still pick yourself up. You can stand tall again. Not right away, of course, but in time. Have faith in yourself. Hold on. It'll get better, I promise."

Because when I'm completely busted up inside, when my self-confidence has crumbled to dust, when I have no self-esteem left...all I want is for someone to sit beside me and say that they empathise with what I'm going through. That they know what I feel like, even if they may not have gone through the same experience. And they have to be sincere when saying it. I don't need words of consolation, or solidarity or whatever. I don't need to be built up (although a little wouldn't hurt). What I want are the words, "I get it. I get you.".

That's what I want.