When I was a tiny trannie music buoyed my soul, carried me through dispair so often. And as is the intention of songwriters, I identified with the voice of the songs I so loved. One song stood out, though, as something more than just shared feelings, it came across to me as almost a memory I hadn't lived yet. It was a song that caused me to weep every time I heard it, but they were never bitter tears, just soft, melty tears as if I was gently dissolving into the universe. That song was "Killing Me Softly".
I was a romantic at heart, even as young as I was, maybe sixish years old. When I heard that song I felt it, I wanted it. I wanted to be "killed softly". I felt I was truly there, truly in that place and I felt, at once, so wonderful and so sad. I grew up with that song and the feeling that one day a man would "strum my pain with his fingers and sing my life with his word." I didn't know how, I just knew.
Now, my life half past, I have finally met that man and though he was not a musician in a park, his effect was every bit as profound. I truly did feel "he found my letters and read each one out loud." And I got so wrapped up in living with that in my life, the feeling like I was truly "known" for once in my life, that I neglected to remember how the song ends. The way I knew it would happen, the way I "remembered" it happening.
She went home, alone, to weep gently with only memories so soft and sweet, knowing that man was never hers.