About songs

I remember how necessary a new song would be, right then, on first hearing. How I couldn't not listen to it again. How I couldn't not try to sing it. How I'd hum it in the shower, in the car, when I got up, when I went to bed, when I was in class. How I worked at a store selling songs, but the not the ones I liked best. But still those songs too were good songs. Most songs were good. The bad songs even could be forgiven. I lived songs during the day and every night I went to see people sing and play songs. Every night almost, almost for five years for free as part of my job, oh was that fun.

And then.

I stopped.

And now songs are just songs. I like many of them, still particularly love the ones I remember living with. And new ones.

But they aren't as necessary as they used to be. For me.

That must be because I've found other musics. Or I don't need them to translate my emotions anymore. Or communicate mixed-tape style what I couldn't say. I guess.

I became a kind of expert on the subject of songs and it honestly dulled my liking of them after a while.

I wonder what else might be like that?