The other day I was listening to music when my brother ambushed me. My headphones fell out. Assaulted by a crashing pound of silence and sudden absence of sound, devastation set in. No longer connected to the masterfully manipulated noise-waves, I forgot how to breathe. Struggling for air, vision blurring, I blindly searched the floor for my headphones in growing urgency. Lungs burning, my hand grasped the thin cord in explosive relief, and jammed them back into my ears, awaiting the much needed intake of air that would follow. Silence. Panic coursed through me in smothering intensity, and I clutched my throat in desperation. Reaching down the length of the cord, my hand went through the non-existent iPod. Blind and shaking with the fundamental need for oxygen I scoured the carpet with instinctual fervor… and found it. Jamming in my life line to the portable oxygen tank, relief flooded through me as finally, I breathed. As the world revealed itself again, I noticed Dylan watching me in confusion. He then rolled his eyes and walked away. He didn’t understand the necessity of the music ventilator. Muggles.
Apr28
theskywillfall 
See, I enjoy music as much as the next guy. Heck, maybe a little bit more. But one thing that’s always bothered me, is how some people view music as some sort of ambrosia. Actually, bothered isn’t the right word, it really just… intrigues me, that people can hold something in that high of regard.
I guess the difference is viewing music as something seperate in itself, something that simply exists, and you can choose to hear it or not, but it generally doesnt change your life- the other view would be that not only is it a part of life, but that it also can’t be seperated from life. That to have life, you need music, and to have music, you need life. And when I say music I mean it in the broadest sense possible.