I publish a vulnerable and nontraditional essay about music, romance and heartache.
The way I listen is a kind of addiction.
When I first discover a song I love — like really love — I listen to it over and over again, on repeat for an entire day, or several days. I listen while cooking, while biking, while crying, while naked, all the while singing at the top of my lungs. I go hoarse with obsession.
I need to be enveloped in the sound. I want total occupation, a warmth spreading across my clavicle. I let myself drown.
Read the essay at Entropy Magazine.