Playlists
My life is shaded to match the colors of a musical playlist. Often I can remember exactly where I was when I first fell in love with a song. I associate different songs with night rides and others with naked gyrations. I take it everywhere. In my car, in the office, on a run, in my distract able brain. I even took your most familiar written image and had it tattooed.
We’ve become so familiar, me and music, that I trust you with my deepest, darkest moments.
You’ve always found a way to relate to my joys and pains. I thank you for reminding me how human emotion is. Even the most silent, painful ones.
I thug out to DMX. Let it encapsulate my anger and release it. When I’m in between and just flowing with life Eric Benet is my most chosen drug. He just feels it all.
I share my pain with Alicia and Erykah Badu. Yes, sometimes I convince myself I’m loved by “nobody, not really.”And there’s no wonder we women build twenty foot walls.
When I think about colleges and other wreckless times, I turn to Gucci Mane. Too real. Lemonade, though?! Guaranteed banger. I used “Bet I Bust” and other inappropriate things all up and down college avenues in the whip.
Sometimes I simply chase a song that haunts me. Songs so melodically beautiful they bring a tear to my eye: The Prayer, Mood for Love, This Bed I Made.
And sometimes I run from you. Plagued by what and who R Kelly, Hov, and Ginuwine remind me of. Foolishly, I find myself drawn to sexy songs. Crooning about scratches and love…in this club until loneliness overwhelms me because nobody’s caressing me.
But there’s always another playlist to help me. The anthems. Stevie Wonder paints the word sunshine yellow. I drink in the champagne life and remind myself “you gon’ miss me when I’m gone.” And before long I’m dusting myself off, thinking Angie Stone would surely approve.
Thank you. I love you, playlist.