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I hate the feeling I get when I listen to old songs and remember why I became tired of them. A playlist called “Hearts” or “Walking” or “Running.” It didn’t matter. Those were tireless times. Those were negative times. I wasn’t going anywhere special. Nothing in me was changing– I was on an unplugged treadmill running in place and getting shin splits. And then the shin splits hurt and I remembered that time as being painful and purposeless. My heart rate was too high. My feelings were exhausted.
So the music didn’t matter to me anymore. So I stowed them away in the history of my brain and didn’t hear them again unless it was in passing. And it reminded me of bad times. Times where the music played out. I was tired of those times. Those were tireless times.
About Sarah Estime
Sarah Jean Estime is an aircraft mechanic in the United States Air Force. When she in not working on the day job, she writes stories related to young adult, humour, and drama. Sarah has been published by the "African American Review," Canadian literary magazine "What If?" and photography litmag "BurnerMag."
