A Scientifically Crafted Soundtrack to Your (let's be real: My) Next Crying Session

I'm imagining that most of you reading my blog know me on a personal basis, and if you do, you must be knowing my love for crafting scientific playlists that follow the ebb and flow of moods and emotions. Recently, I've been in a lot of anxiety and unexplained sadness, so I've found two go-to songs, that must be listened to one after the other, to cry to.

I will admit, this is entirely the work of Anthony Gonzales, the "mand" (or one-man band) that is M83. However, I feel like I've created a meaning of my own to it and I would love to share it with you guys. 

Trust me, guys. This is beautiful. This is science. Let me explain to you how these songs essentially push you into a state of utter catharsis. Jeez, I'm so excited.

Okay, so, we've all encountered that shitty pre-cry feeling wherein you're stuck in that in-between area of suppressing your emotions and wanting to let it all out but not exactly having the tears for it. I like to refer to this phase as "the numbness," because, well, you are fundamentally trying to numb yourself in this confusion. You're also probably approaching the stage of not understanding why you're feeling these ouchful feelings, and punishing yourself for not having it figured out already though, so you can excuse yourself for it. This is literally a page right out of the chapter of Jaanu's books on how to go through life without actually knowing how to function as a capable, responsible, and contributing member of society. 

The first song, America, is just for these feelings. The aim is to catch you at your current mood, and transport it through music. From about 00:00 to 01:25, it's just this noise, this really irritating gibberish. It makes you feel just as shitty as you already do, which fulfils the purpose of matching the atmosphere of your emotions. I feel like this not only syncs with my thoughts and anxieties, but also externalises them. It's not a noticeable part of the journey, but it's definitely significant. 

At about 01:26, there's a very short silence; a dramatic shift in the character of the sound. It's almost as if that's it - that's your quota for being anxious or angry or messed up in your head. The sound of birds and moving water show up, followed by kids swimming in it, with a long ringing noise at the background. Let's go one by one. The moving water and birds pull your focus away to whatever was bothering you, and with the clarity of the sound bite with the kid swimming in it: it's practically impossible for you not to imagine it happening right in front of you. You find the purity in this kid, so oblivious to the harshness in this world, and you somehow draw some joy from it. This joy is only momentary, which is perfect because the ringing noise makes it such that you've still not fully let go of the bitter emotions your heart is still clutching on to. It's a brief bittersweet moment, and then it's only the ringing. It builds up.

This build up is your frustration moving up your spine. At maybe 02:06, the beat drops, but the ringing doesn't stop. This is your catharsis. This is when you internally scream AAHHHHHHH. It even brings back the irritating dialogue so you can combine the initial shitty feeling with the internal yelling. You just can't take it anymore. 

America ends with a screeching noise and about two seconds of ocean wave noise that flow directly into On a White Lake, Near a Green Mountain. You will not be able to tell when the song changes, which is possibly the best part about this because it's one entire journey. The sound of the waves crashing against the strings and the wind bring you into a meditative state. It's all this love from nature, and sometimes you don't feel like you deserve it, so this is when you actually start crying. The tears come pouring down your eyes and within a minute into the song, you've done it. You've exorcised this crap. 

The beat actually kicks in at around 01:06 into the song, and it subconsciously sets this calm pace on your breath. It brings with it some alien-like noises, but they somehow comfort you, and if you still feel like crying, there's some more ringing. Only this time, it's more to release rather than to intensify your frustration. Okay, this all makes sense in my head, but maybe it will in yours as well when you listen to the songs. 

On a White Lake, Near a Green Mountain is all the love from the universe that you didn't get. It brings you the peace you need with the combination of nature, strings, and beats. It brings you back to life. Heck, this song can even put me to sleep. 

It ends with the sound of a jack being plugged into a speaker incorrectly. I feel like that's a reset for your day. Like, okay, this is it - you've come in feeling like shit, you got frustrated, you screamed, you felt the love, you cried, you felt at ease, and now you must go back to your everyday life. This is why I've chosen these songs to cry to. M83 man, you are a genius!!!

A Note on Honesty, and a Commemoration to Our Chemical Comradeship

For the last month or so, I've been going through a mini revolution. A disillusionment, if you will.

In this blog post, I'd like to address the repercussions of running away from the inevitable complexities you face in life, and the peril of forgoing intricate reflection. This is one of my natural tendencies; I'm a master procrastinator, and I avoid clearing my inquiries (especially in math class, dear god). However, recently I've come to realise how blinded this makes you . . .

In this month, I've been separated from an aspect of my life that heavily weighed me down. I felt no such obligations, nor prolonged exposure to toxicity. There was actually an absence of what I imagined my issues to be - which seemed odd - until I realised that I didn't own them, thus I didn't need to 'deal with' them. As I write this, I am slowly growing to be aware of how vague and diplomatic I'm trying to be about this, and how it's a stark contrast to the title of this darned post. In full tbh-honesty, I was entangled in an emotionally taxing comradeship. Having the notion that this was the meaning of mutual trust and support, I willingly took on a significant amount of strain. This was incredibly instinctive for me, as I am innately empathetic, so much so (in fact) that I literally perceive the circumstances of others as my own. For two years, I silently felt joy in 'being there' for a substantial string of incidents, and I was under the impression that this is what comradeship meant. In objective reality, however, this was not true.

Similar to how cells burst due to osmosis (forgive my IB-ridden thought process), there was an event in which I found my breaking point (it was much like how they describe finding a G-spot; a magnificent revelation). I additionally realised that there are times wherein you can't make sense of your own behaviour (and it may even seem like an overreaction to yourself), but it is valid and it will always be valid. Probably, you'd deem yourself a twat for thinking/feeling these anxieties and seek approval from your friends; twisting stories to make yourself seem like the victim; or invoking sympathy/empathy by injecting emotion to your narration.

The point here is that it doesn't matter how much you try to make yourself seem sane for feeling feelings, for you do not lose the right to feel your feelings, you feel? Nobody's encounters, testimonies, or opinions bear any substance in validating your needs and feelings. I should let ya'll know that when I say 'you,' I'm actually trying to teach myself and you these lessons (mostly myself).

With this post, though, I'm eulogising our comradeship and reclaiming my anxieties as marks of experience and understanding. It was an enthralling journey, but just as roller coasters do, rides must end, and often with a nostalgic satisfaction.