Magic music

The old demons sit around the fire telling stories, laughing at all the best parts, how I used to struggle more when they held me. I don't know if it's maturity or stupidity to think maybe I've outgrown them this time. Finally able to listen to their stories like a bystander rather than the main character. Perspective changes everything.

I see them now a little different. Almost hollow shells of what they used to be. A little boring or bland even. Struggled so long with these familiar hells that it's almost funny to look in the mirror. Oh, are we still playing these games? Sigh... Ok, let's do it again I suppose. What used  to whiplash me into tornado like trauma is now only a blur of quick blinding pain, almost habitually responded to with an old shrug and a deep breath... Moving the energy like a memorized yoga routine...

We know each other well now, these dark shadows. The fountain of youth is closer to truth than lies. The lies will be the death of us. Disconnected pieces because the truth is too painful. Keeping things separate because it feels like shit to force the sides to talk. But they have to. One way or another the two halves must reconcile. If they don't, we die. Simple as that. If we cannot speak, we will not heal. 

Perhaps art is the way to do it. Perhaps music. Maybe they will hear the same song and realize they aren't so different. Maybe they have something in common after all. Somewhere deep down, we share something precious in our souls. Something almost magical. Depending on your view of it.

I hope I'm right. I beg the sky to let me be right. Let there be mending. Let there be hope. Let there be listening. Let there be shared experiences again. 

Forgive me.

I didn't know better.