There’s a strange freedom in a room where nobody is waiting for you.
Theres a certain type of freedom you feel when you’re on your own. You walk in and nobody is waiting for you, nobody is wondering where you went. The room isn’t just a place anymore, it’s a fucking ocean. You may drift. Front of the stage for a song or two. Tide may carry you to the back wall for another. Maybe you disappear to the bar long enough the bartender starts giving you a nod instead of asking what you want. After a while you start to realize you’re not really alone. There’s just no assignment. I’ve stood in quite a few rooms like that. Enough to know that feeling isn’t confidence. It’s more of a private myth you build in your own head. You feel mysterious. In reality you’re the happiest sad kid, the loneliest rebel, the most self-sufficient dependent that ever existed. The funniest thing is that it stops mattering once the lights go down. The music melts it all away and levels everyone in the room. For a couple hours nobody owes anybody anything. The weight you carried in just sort of drifts away. You’re not your job, your stress or whatever the fuck happened this week. You’re just whatever part of you that music reaches. There isn’t a drug in the world that can touch that feeling. Trust me I’ve tried.
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