Lately I have found myself listening to very sad, melancholy songs. This is not typical for me. Usually I am the type of person to immediately despise a sappy, whining song about lost loves, betrayals or heartache of any sort. If a friend chooses such a selection, I’ll usually spout off something like “I don’t want to listen to that ol’ whiny stuff.” (Yes, I have very Southern dialect. My quotations of myself will directly represent how I speak, though my writing will directly represent how I think. Why are they different? Million dollar question.) Lately, I find myself enduring, even delving into the meaning and feelings of these songs. I just don’t exactly know why. One could say I have a broken heart at this point in my life, but one wouldn’t be entirely correct in that broad claim. My heart doesn’t feel broken, it just doesn’t feel whole. I don’t feel lost, empty, miserable, or sad even. So I believe that I am listening to these songs because I feel like I should have these same feelings in these songs, but I do not. I’m reaching for something to relate to, something to reassure me that someone else in this world, at some time, has felt what I am now feeling, and I have yet to find that. That’s why I’m listening and paying such attention to these songs. But because the emotions going on inside of me are not sadness, I’m failing to find personal relevance. Somewhere within this failure, brings a sense of relief. This failure to find commonness has brought me a kind of peace that tells me that things could be so much worse. I could be crying out or distraught with misery, but I’m not. I’m just here, maybe not all here, but here. I’m thankful that I am not like these broken souls in these sad songs, and that is why I listen. So that at the end of everything, I have something to be thankful for.