Earworms root in the crannies of my moods.

Whenever my emotional wheel locks in one space, it circulates associated manifestations through me. A song roots in the sentiment sediment, part attempt to rationalise and adapt to the causative condition, part attempt to work through and overcome. While typing, reading or any activities work or home, even in sleep the song loops, a necessary salve facilitating healing.

Some people never talk about their hurts; others open and share everything. In truth, our cuts can make some uncomfortable. Continual talk of depression might make people run for less heavy subject matter.

I tend not to share most of what ails my emotional innards, but I do mention past transgressions. Anyone who delves into my about page knows, and I mention it in the occasional post. I don’t run from it, because honesty matters. When one has been *dis*honest, its preciousness seems all the more acute.

Today, a song loops in my head, and I’m going to share it via video. You all know it.

I’ll omit the reason, other than to say ten years ago I neared the end of two years of meltdown that harmed too many. I’ve spent almost a decade living with what I did, while engaged in a zealous rebuilding of my life and integrity. I take pride in the accomplishments over the last nine years, even as the bite of prior transgressions still leeches blood. I cope through fierce determination to do better. My commitment is total.

Pink, please sing. Your words find new meaning in my soul, a rejiggered remedy for a wounded spirit.

For those who wonder, my spirit heals newer cuts rather fast. The ones from the early two thousands, those are more like limb loss. I cope with its actuality.

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