A.N. - Yes, I'm ranting again.

Beautiful jazz. Can't you see it? Those pretty notes, it's so lovely it
hurts. It tugs at your heart and you smile. You tap your feet along the
cement floor and stare at the candle in the center of the table. It's been
lit and the little flame dances with the music on the stage. You want to
cry because the music just means so much. It sings about poetry, of the
ocean, of that smell of comfort. It might not have any words, just a title
and so many scattered notes on a piece of paper, but it means so much.
More than anyone could ever imagine. This is where you go to hide, this is
what you always imagined life to be. You don't have money, and you only
have the bare necessities. But life is beautiful that way. The amount of
possessions you have determine your love and respect for life. Whoever
made you, and however the world came about, it's so beautiful. It has the
bad, but the good can be found in the smallest places. The music changes
tempo, crawling softer, piercing the quiet smoky air of the club. It's
dark and you can't really see anything but the blue lights light up the
musicians on the stage. There are people walking around, coming in from
the cold wind and snow drifts. You bite your lip, the burning sensation of
exquisite pain running through you, making you close your eyes. You don't
know the stories of the people here, but you can pretend. He's running
from his wife. She likes girls. He's hates himself. But they're here for
one reason. To lose themselves in the heart-breaking music. You don't
believe in the love of people, but in that of things that are a source of
eternal love. Like music, or the words that are scribbled onto the back of
a dirty piece of paper. The starts of a poem, of a story that could change
everything you are. Maybe you'll write a story just to make you happy, to
please yourself. Or maybe you'll share one. Show others what you are and
how you think. Fuck acceptance. If they can't love you for who you are,
then why should they even be allowed to love you at all? Change for no
one. Trust no one. The truth is out there, or maybe it's right here.
Hidden in the sweet music from soft fingers and delicate hands. Those
hands that know so much. People don't know how to find true life. But I
think I'm getting closer...