If I die tomorrow, this crazy journey will have been worth it because of "Teardrops."
Robinella sang it for me tonight. In some ways, it's the best (early) birthday present a guy could get. It's a sad song, poignant and melancholic, but it always sends me to the stratosphere.
It sounded so pretty -- Robin knocked it out of the park -- and as I listened, I thought about all the things that didn't work out. I will turn 31 on Friday; guess that's put me in an introspective mood.
One thing I like about that song is that it is so honest. "I know I won't make it if you don't love back; please, love me for all that I lack."
Isn't that what we ask of a lover? "I'm not perfect, but love me anyway." I guess I adore that song because it verbalizes feelings I'd otherwise never be able to tell a woman.
When it's hard to tell the nighttime from the day, I think about all the friends I have, all the fun times, all the crazy things I've done. And it makes the darkness visible.
I don't know. I fly up into the ether, wondering when I'm going to come down ("When are you going to land?"), and then I crash. But, hell. I'll deal with it.
I go about my day, try not to think about the nights, laugh it up, bluffing the world by rarely showing my hand.
And some nights, Robinella sings "Teardrops," I skyrocket into the stratosphere, and it's a memory to hold onto when I come down to earth.