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Bittersweet Emotions

I'm sad. It's the kind of sadness that comes from boredness, the kind that just sort of engulfs everything, leaving the droning of the tv and the dull rumble of the dishwasher a humming white noise. I'm not stuck on what to do. There's chores and violin and everything else waiting for me downstairs. But I'm happy, somewhat selfishly, because I'm alone. I sigh and stare at the perfect shining red on the bass cradled in my lap. It's top heavy and falls over to the neck side because the weight isn't proportioned properly and the A string buzzes when I hit it too hard without it plugged in the amp but it's perfect. Absolutely perfect and the only thing that will take my mind off nothingness. So I play. I play Black Sabbath and The Cure and Queens of The Stone Age and Nirvana and Red Hot Chili Peppers and Motionless in White and bits and pieces of things I'm trying to learn and riffs that I'd heard and liked from new songs, until my fingers ache if I stop playing for too long.