the beatles

I remember crying hysterically on the only day I've ever cried like that. I don't think I'll ever feel that terrible again, and it's weird to acknowledge that I have. I remember looking around my room and thinking of all the things I've chosen to identify myself with. Decorations. I mean, that's what they're for right? And The Beatles were every where I looked. A yellow submarine. Love is all you need. John. Ringo. George..and my lovely lovey Paul. And I started crying even more. I cried because I felt like what I was into was some kind of joke. Some kind of fantasy I'd fallen in love with. A person that hides from reality.  I felt silly for making something so complex seem so simple. I felt like I had silenced other voices and chosen to live ignorantly in bliss, but now I could finally hear them again, and they were shouting.

LOVE IS OBVIOUSLY NOT ALL YOU NEED.
WATER, ELY, WATER!
PEACE? WHAT A FAR-FETCHED IDEA. SEEMS LIKE YOU'VE FALLEN INTO SOME SORT OF SHALLOW TREND
RARARARARARARARARARARA!

It was terrible.

I don't think of them like that all now. I feel like that day just made me realize how much shit the world was and how perfection can exist sometimes in moments, in sounds, and that is what the beatles do for me.
I am not running away from reality. I am creating my own.