Why I was the one worth leaving

Frank Turner covering "The District Sleeps Alone" and breaking my heart over-and-over again.

I texted my best-friend Lucy to tell her I'd just listened to this song on repeat *at least 10 times* and she instructed me to stop it immediately. She is one of the people who understands how I subject myself to melancholy heartbreaking music like this and potentially wallow in it forever. I almost make myself feel worse, but it also makes me feel so much better too. So I might just sneak in one more listen today.

There's something about Frank Turner that is an affirmation for me. Even if he doesn't always explicitly spell-it-out lyrically, his songs give me this feeling that is hard to describe, but important for me to try and understand. Something about unfinished lives still in progress, people that haven't got it all sorted out yet and are still fucking-up and starting from scratch and trying again and again and again. Like you could let your painful failures and heartbreaks crush you, but you can also remember that the world is full of people starting over their lives from scratch every day.

I'm in good company (or at least, lots of it) even when I think I'm struggling alone with all this stuff.

Also, aforementioned best-friend Lucy is responsible for this sentiment, some words that I thoroughly endorse:

"I don't believe in staying in touch, it's for boring people who are dead inside. for people like us we just fall right back into things when we see each other."

And I'll add to that a few more things, like that I don't care about romanticising the old-days or school-days as the best time of my life, and I don't want to "catch up" or look back and reminisce, I really am more interested in moving on and more interested in now.