Crescendo

 

Enjoying the tempo, the slow, uprising crescendo that brings pleasure to your ear-drums; you've become addicted. Loving it in every possible way. The sound of the beat, the rhythm, the hook is what really attracted you, it's everything you wanted to hear. It was a perfectly composed piece just for you. Replay after replay, you claim this song as your own, not wanting anyone else to hear it; because you want to believe that it was made for your ears only. This song brings you joy, and has made a huge impact on your life now. You start to like this genre. The music you've been creating your whole life starts to fade, you become whole with a different artist, your BPM suddenly starts to change. The artist of these songs you listen to make you feel safe. This song has been running through your mind all day, everyday, having no interest in what any other artist may produce. "She makes the best music." you thought. She gives music more meaning, they're more complex than just noises and sounds. Listening more and more, headphones on full volume, you're cut off from reality. Her music starts to play. 

 

It puts you in a trance, you instantly became her biggest fan. She inspires you to produce a beat, a beat that relates to both of your music style, hoping she will listen and add a piece of herself into your life, by pen or pencil. You wanted her to use you like a canvas, whatever she may write could hurt you, and the scars will stay forever. You didn't care.. She wrote and wrote,  being the canvas, you see the rhythm in her movement while she paints you. You fall in love. 

 

There's nothing you know about her, being in love with something that you haven't quite understood completely, but, your ignorant self trusts your gut that nothing will go wrong. 

 

Your album is complete. 2 different artists, 2 different genres; satisfied with the completion of the tape, you both listen to the masterpiece you've created; both falling in love, ready to release what you two have made for the public to hear. 

 

People are fascinated with it, some hate it. You've given other artists new ideas of music, other artists are enraged. They wanted her to feature in their songs, wanted her to be part of their lives. The jealousy overcomes their emotions; they started to fall. But, you? You're motivated about the future of music you will create. You listen to other artists, "horrid", you think. Then, suddenly, everyone and everything goes mute. Your new playlist is louder, reaching decibels so high, only you two can listen and understand the meaning of its context. You're proud of yourself for having commitment in your new sound, wishing that this girl that made a feature on my album, doesn't leave for a different song. She was mine only.

 

Slipping into unconsciousness, you smile real big; she thought that was weird. 

 

Waking up tired and snoozing, you're caught staring into the eyes of your beloved, the one who wrote lyrics on to your pieces, the one that gives meaning to your short playlist, you feel blessed with the relationship that's developed and grown with her. Your rhythm intertwines with theirs, their sound is now your sound. Your music will only get stronger; you wait for the right moment that will come to urge us to complete our last album together. Your wedding is in a week, hopefully your last song should be finished by that time.

 

The satisfaction of your retirement, the last song in the album has finally been played for the first and last time. It feels calming, like the time you first heard her. Laying in your death bed, thinking back about your life, "Is this what my music has come to?", "Why is my song almost over?" 

You think and think, really hoping you get to meet her in the afterlife.. You didn't want to leave.. The Angels are singing to you. Closing your eyes, everything goes pitch black; you've always thought dying is going to be a scary experience. 

"Think happy thoughts.." You didn't have to think very hard at all. She sang to me once more; a lullaby. I felt so ready to fall asleep. I didn't want to though. My eyes are shutting now, again, slipping into unconsciousness; you smile real big. She smiled back.

 

Your song has come to an end, your discography is finally finished.

 

4:05/4:05 - "End of playlist"

 

Taking your last breath as the producer/creator of your life, you start to hear familiar noises of the past being played back to you in your head, bit by bit. The first song you've made with her plays once again; you open your eyes for the first time. 

 

"It's bright." you think to yourself, after all, you've been in complete darkness for the past 8-9 months in your mothers womb. Your new single has finally reached its release date, and the song plays in someone's head, only hearing slight noises. They can't seem to comprehend what they're listening to, curiosity will get the best of them, and will have them wanting to hear more anyways. They hear bits and pieces of your music as a beat or rhythm; the more they hear, the closer you are to finding them, the closer you are to making new sounds, and a new life with the perfect music playing in the background. The one to be your source of happiness and joy waits for you, waits for the discography you two will soon create together, and one day go platinum & #1 on the charts. 

 

You take your first breath as a new person, you can hear slight static.. A song in your head begins to play..

 

0:01/-:-- "Untitled"

 

-s.s