Actions

Work Header

Playlist of Love

Chapter Text

Some say there are two types of people in the world. Sweeney Todd says there’s the one being put in his proper place and the one with his foot in the other one’s face. Others say there are the winners and the losers. Others who aren’t those others say similar stuff. To me? There are thousands of different kinds of people in the world. Why try to categorize them all under just two titles?

There is one thing we can all relate to though, and that’s music. Even the most hateful of people listen to some type of beat or tune. I bet God has his own radio up in Heaven. The angels sing all the time. People have songs in their heads. Those who can actually carry them usually do, even if it’s just humming or tapping their fingers or feet.

Sometimes, I think that it would be great if life was a song. If everyone just sang what they were really feeling, or played it out on an instrument. Then there would be no lies, and this crazy world wouldn’t be so crazy.

If love was like that too, there wouldn’t be any fights. Special people can feel and hear melodies of others and those people can find their ‘one’ through the notes they sense. But other people who only just wish of doing that, they fight and cheat and lie all the time. Their melodies don’t mix, because they’re not in the same key or time signature.

But of course, no one sings what they wanna say. That’s reserved for onstage and TV. This world is still crazy. And everyone categorizes everyone into two types. Those that can tune it out, do. Those that can’t are lost in the chaos and never resurface.

Me? I’m one of the former. All I need to do to accomplish it? Well, there are many options, really. Open my mouth and belt (when I’m not feeling shy as heck), place my fingers on the piano keys, or place my headphones into my ears and turn my iPod up loud. In music, there’s a world waiting for me. It’s a beautiful, wonderful, perfect place. A little piece of my own Heaven. Everyone has it, they just have to know it’s there and look for it. It’s built just for them. The staff is the never-ending meadow, the notes are the steps, the instruments the wide open sky. It’s so beautiful, it almost makes me wanna cry.

If only I could escape into that world all the time, and not feel trapped as I’m forced to wander the waking nightmare we call reality, waiting on the world to change. But it never does. Love songs begin and end, people die and just start to breathe, politicians lie, artists paint, poets dream. The list goes on and on, just as life does. All we can do is grin and bear it. Take it one step at a time.

It’s just how it’s gotta be. So let it be.