I get this Beatles song stuck in my head quite a lot. I’m not sure why. My dad used to play them to me when I was little. He’d swing me around to their music until we were both dizzy and had to sit down.
Sometimes I feel as if things like that happened in another life. It’s almost as if I can’t remember them as me, but I do.
Anyway, my favourite song then was apparently Octopus’s Garden. The thing is, I only know the first two lines of that and I don’t remember the tune, but Eleanor Rigby sticks with me like no other.
I’m not looking into that with any really deep significance. It’s just one of those things I hum quite often. In fact these are some of the songs that I hum most often without meaning to:
- Eleanor Rigby – The Beatles
- American Pie – Don McLean
- The verse from Evita that starts ‘I’m not talking of a hurried night’
- I Could Have Danced All Night – from My Fair Lady
- You Are The Moon – The Hush Sound
- No Time To Look – Kate Walsh
- I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light – Brand New
- It’s Okay I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don’t – Brand New
- All I Wanted – Paramore
- Turn It Off – Paramore
- I Don’t Wanna Lose You – Tina Turner
- 1 2 3 4 – Feist
There are a lot there, but those are the ones that flip through most often without a thought or a prompt to guide them.
Perhaps the lyrics of each song says something about me. Or perhaps it’s just because they remind me of certain points and events in my life.
I can hear a bird cooing now. It’s like the one that used to sit in a tree opposite our old house all day, cooing. I keep dreaming of my old house. That’s probably a defence mechanism for when I feel troubled. I dreamt of him being at the old house the day before he text.
He’d invited himself along with two friends that I’d asked around. So I refused to look at him or talk to him, even though I knew he wanted to tell me something despite his inability to look at me or talk to me. It was one of those things where you just know. He stayed long after the others had gone even though I was making it difficult for him, acting as if I wanted him to leave and didn’t want to hear what he wanted to say. Defending myself in my dream as I would in real life from the things he could say and the hurt he could cause.
I didn’t plan to tell you about this dream. Or the one I had last night.
Last night’s came off the back of other thoughts, though. It wasn’t totally out of the blue like the other.The sad thing is that I knew in the dream that it was a dream. And I told him that it didn’t matter what he said to me because in the morning it would still only be a figment of my imagination.
I shan’t tell you all the details of the dream as it was originally just something normal. There was something to do with some kind of event going on with these people I knew and we were all heading to this place in the fog when he and his best friend appeared. It was almost like my dream was gate crashed. It was unerringly vivid.
They were both drunk and hiding because he’d chickened out of telling me about what he wanted to say at the last minute. Suddenly knowing it was a dream, my heart sank and I listened but told him that in the morning it wouldn’t matter because in the morning he wouldn’t have said it.
It’s silly that after these months I’m still caught up, still dreaming, still knowing that if I bump into him in public…
Ugh… I know that in public I would probably have to run in the opposite direction. Because, as is obvious, I’m not over him. And I’m sure the people that I speak of him to find it utterly boring and pathetic by now. I tell myself that he doesn’t care and that I’m not to care either. He doesn’t love me so I shouldn’t love him. Tit for tat.
If only it worked like that, eh?
But I’m bouncy enough. I can get through the days. I can make jokes and I tire myself out enough at work to sleep. And if I don’t I play video games until my eyes are too tired. It’s just the circular things in my head that are the problem… which aren’t helped when I get meaningless messages through on my phone. Because they are meaningless. They have to be.
Or when I see his best friend in public and my heart stops for a moment just in case they’re both there and I have to run away.
Sounds dignified that, doesn’t it? But it’s either I run away and look like I’m avoiding him or he sees what’s in my eyes and I’m torn apart by looking. It’s all about survival really. Fight or flight. And I’ve always been better at flight when it comes to my own heartbreak. I don’t want to be caught with that in my eyes, because I know I can’t hide it and I know I’ll be more vulnerable to him than ever.
Someone once said: If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don’t, they never were.
So I guess I should know by now.
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