I spend a lot of time listening to my iTunes because I don’t like the majority of mainstream music that’s available today. I’ve always been brought up around radios though. Every room in my house other than my bathroom has one. They were always a source of comfort to me when I was lonely and too young to have a portable music player that specified to my taste.

I am not an elegant person, so it becomes fitting that I can’t write or speak elegantly. Nor do I have a particular wish to. I’m not very good at expressing my feelings, yet I’m not skilled in hiding them either. I like other people to guess. I like it even better when other people can express things for me.

Music is my favourite form of expression. Though, I’m not sure expression is the right word. I admire that someone else can produce something, that is exactly everything I ever wanted to say, without flamboyancy and awkwardness. Today, through the radio, I found that song.

Paloma Faith; Picking Up The Pieces.

This song expresses my concern that I’ll never be able to really understand any other person, most of the time I don’t even understand myself. It releases some of my deepest fears, namely that I will never be good enough. It stems from the knowledge that there will always be someone bigger, better. It expresses the jumble of insecure thoughts that goes through my mind, in ordered verses, bridge and chorus. I believe that’s why I find so much sanctuary in music. It’s the only thing that gives any structure to my constantly cluttered mind.

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