Tortured Souls

Again, I find myself singing in my head all kinds of songs from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I suppose in some ways it is better to sing things in your own head rather to hear strange voices in your head, but for my part I am a bit tired of all the to-do and energy this ever present soundtrack takes from me.

For one thing, I never find myself singing Miley Cyrus songs. Many would find that to be a tremendous relief, but I think just once "Party in the USA" might be less of an emotional drain. It is hard to be, well, melancholy while singing Hannah Montana.

I wonder- do people around me know that while they are going on and on about priorities, bills, job assignments, volleyball practice that I am actually singing "All by myself" at the top of my head's lungs? How about "Sometimes Love Just ain't enough" "The Difficult Kind" or "Jesus to a Child?" I tell you, these sad songs invade me and are ever present. What a burden!

You know, I hear about artists' tortured souls, about musicians, painters, Renaissance men of various genres and disciplines, and it seems as if all of them battle- well- their own little battles. Van Gogh and his bloody ear, child geniuses and their suicide rates, but I have never heard tell of anyone with an annoying ever present soundtrack of desperation.

It would be me.