Words.

It smells like rain. The road's dark; the car's a little too warm.

The setting for my downer thoughts is doing nothing to encourage a happy haze. No less that when all else fails, sleep eludes. Music speaks volumes, some too loud for my tender ears, but I can't turn them down. Shuffle is a gamble. Song one reminds me of you; song two reminds me I should forget you. Song three playfully addresses promiscuous sex, and four, making a getaway. The routine goes on. Some send daggers to my heart and some make me feel strong, almost healed.

Are we this malleable? Thoughts form around atmosphere like clay in warm hands. I wish I could set a song in my head and hum to its tune, determining my own sensation. Instead, I skip the songs you like (or at least try to) and try to find a jam that doesn't speak to me at all. I want just one song to be completely absent of a line, phrase, or melody that makes me feel. The relatable power of music makes this impossible. A line sparks fresh thought; a riff bites at my memory, and I am ripped wide open once again.

This is my musical selection, and this is me exposed because of it. I absorb each blow with the strength of a boxer; I have found my violence. So I can't throw a punch. But with every blow I take from my musical companion, I learn from its strategies. While unable to inflict much more than a scratch visibly, I am capable of stirring emotional catastrophe. Words on the tip of my tongue could be fatal if I let them roll off. This is my poison, and this is where I am lethal. My strength isn't my muscle; it's in the words I shelter and thoughts I spill to silent paper scraps and white screens. Unleashed to opposing eyes, my words could be pain. If I ever lost my careful control, the kindness I value, I'd hurt the people around me.

But it's best I shelf my words in neat rows in my mind. There's a fine line between sugarcoating and just saying what is necessary, nothing more. More hurts, and more ruins. I will use my words for good. There's no good in picking your battles just to relentlessly obliterate those who fight for the other side. Call me a coward, old-fashioned, or both, but I believe in the power of speech and words. And I think acknowledging that is the only way to keep the peace, or at least what's left of it.