High Fidelity

People worry about kids playing with guns, and teenagers watching violent videos; we are scared that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands - literally thousands - of songs about broken hearts and rejection and pain and misery and loss.
—  Nick Hornby, High Fidelity
you play them your favorite song. and they listen, and nod, and tap their foot a few times, and you try not to mind. because you know not everyone can love it as much as you do, you don’t expect them to stand in the middle of the supermarket, transfixed for 3 minutes; you just expect them to - well, not tap their feet, and maybe close their eyes, and maybe, just maybe, inhale just after the song ends as if they need a lung-full of fresh air to process. but they don’t - it’s all feet, and hands, and mouthing the words they don’t know, and to you it feels like blasphemy. but you try, you sit by them, watching, waiting. and the song ends. and before the last chord they tell you - it’s cool, reminds me of coldplay. and suddenly, you know, in that moment, that this person, this sudden stranger is not the one for you - you know, although it might take you months or years to admit it and finally give in and give up, that this person is not who you will love for the rest of your life. and there is both comfort and sadness in that knowledge. you know they don’t feel the world the same way you do, and suddenly that explains away every misstep, every miscommunication  every single thing lost in translation. you are two pieces that don’t fit.
—  marina v., i loved a boy once, who loved music the way i love words.