I remember they once told me that
music is the best time capsule
It's where people keep their secrets and feelings;
of their insecurities, their mistakes, their sadness, their first cut,
and even the wounds and bruises that invisible to the eye
It's where people let their wildest dreams alive;
of the one they can never reach, the one that will never come back, the one that got away without proper farewell
It's where people store their most sacred memories;
of their first kisses, their first love, their first dance, their first bucket of roses, their first heartbreak
So they were right after all,
Music is dangerous, yet addicting; it can either tear you apart or put the pieces back altogether, it depends on what kind of ghosts living inside the interlude
Thus, be careful who you listen the music with
some melody is louder than the others
**
Today I played the music box you gave me on my seventeenth birthday
How odd it is to realize that music sometimes can be a time machine, how every strings and clinks bring me back to you—towards you
