I am in one of those moods again. You know the ones where you want to wallow in self pity and depression even though you have nothing to be depressed or wallow about? Does it sound weird that I love these times?? I remember being 16, 17 and just sitting alone in my room and listening to Disintegration by The Cure. I would write horrible teenage love poetry and just exist in this rare realm that allows one to be depressed yet satisfied at the same time. Of course now, at 33, I can add a few beers to the mix and it makes the angst a little more poignant. Truly there is nothing wrong with me. I am happily married and the mother of two. However, at times like these, I yearn for that extra something. Maybe it's the latest book I'm reading or a recent musical purchase that causes me to fantasize and wonder about different avenues I might have tread. They're never real yearnings. I don't fantasize that I am divorced or that my husband has died, nothing like that. I become engrossed in this parallel universe where a woman not much different than myself lives an emotionally charged romantic existence. The names and faces change each time but I am captivated by the story. I want to hide away and play them out in my head. I wish not to be bothered.

It's funny what brings these episodes on. Sometimes, it's a book or a song like I said. This time it is a voice. This one, perfect singing voice that is filled with such unabashed yearning that it causes me to question my own happiness. To think that I should have that voice yearning for me instead of being comforted by the love I am already gifted with. Does music affect everyone like this? Am I alone in my weakness? It has always been this way. I can become lost in a song or a voice and be completely content in my predicament. I think that any random individual would find this disturbing or unusual to say the least. To think that a self-inflicted depression would be at all therapeutic is ludicrous to most no doubt. To me it's cathartic. This voice, this one voice that has me enthralled at the moment is like an addiction. I must hear it. I must expand on the emotions I hear and create this world and story in my head. Tomorrow I might be back to trotting along in public approved bliss. Today I am citing and reciting the most romantic story that never was.