Currently, I’m sitting in my university’s library bouncing to the tune of none other than The Arctic Monkey’s “Why’d You Only Call Me You’re High.”
“Now it’s three in the morning,
And I’m trying to change your mind,
Left you multiple missed calls
And to my message you reply.
Why’d you only call me when you’re high?
Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”
I can’t help but think of what the person on the other side of the line is feeling. Why are you calling? What do you need? Are you so messed up that somehow your mind wandered to me even though it never traveled so far when you were sober?
These lyrics, in the the most twisted way bring me so much pleasure. I can’t help but smile, and it’s horrible.
We all go through it:
That moment in the middle of the night, where your phone lights up with an old name that you’ve managed to shove away from your precious heart. But somethings different this time: Rather than searching for a glimpse of the future with this person somewhere between the lies and promises, you find a deep and gratifying sense of triumph.
You’ve made it.
And you did it- even though they said you never would.
You’re over it.
You’ve moved on.
…And you were right.
You’ve found the happiness they said they couldn’t give you due to its lack of existence.