Ὀρφεύς - Orpheus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
golden_lyre) wrote2012-08-10 05:05 pm
golden_lyre) wrote2012-08-10 05:05 pm
[Milliways]: Deluge
It comes on like a wave.
(He's been to psychiatrists before, though not by choice, he knows what they say. He represses his emotions until they overwhelm him.)
Still, it always shocks him, that tidal pull of sadness, like nothing else exists in the world but the memory of loss.
And when it hits him, there is nothing he can do but let it explode out of himself. And the only way he can do that is through song.
That's why he ran.
He ran and he hid in his apartment with his guitar, the window flung open in deference to the Paris summer heat (and to keep the melancholy of his song from drowning him), playing out a song that flooded into the streets, catching everyone in its path, everyone who had ever lost something or someone.
After a few days, his phone began to ring, bringing message after message from his producers wanting to know where he was, when he was going to finish the album. He ignored them all, playing (and drinking) himself into oblivion. For days on end there was nothing but the music.
There were days he wished he could just float away on the memories.
(He's been to psychiatrists before, though not by choice, he knows what they say. He represses his emotions until they overwhelm him.)
Still, it always shocks him, that tidal pull of sadness, like nothing else exists in the world but the memory of loss.
And when it hits him, there is nothing he can do but let it explode out of himself. And the only way he can do that is through song.
That's why he ran.
He ran and he hid in his apartment with his guitar, the window flung open in deference to the Paris summer heat (and to keep the melancholy of his song from drowning him), playing out a song that flooded into the streets, catching everyone in its path, everyone who had ever lost something or someone.
After a few days, his phone began to ring, bringing message after message from his producers wanting to know where he was, when he was going to finish the album. He ignored them all, playing (and drinking) himself into oblivion. For days on end there was nothing but the music.
There were days he wished he could just float away on the memories.