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“And I'm not sleeping now / The dark is too hard to beat / And I'm not keeping up / The strength I need to push me”
Ellie Goulding’s soft voice bounces around the windows of our car. The song is bright and the night outside is darker than it should be. I had never heard that song before but find it funny that the first time I hear it is when I’m surrounded by street lights that shine so dim. I hum the repetitive parts that don’t take too long for me to recognize and expect while my brother sniffles in the back and Mom just keeps on driving.
“Noises, I play within my head / Touch my own skin / And hope they'll still be there / And I think back to when / My brother and my sister slept / In another place / The only time I feel safe”
It’s been a month but the song is still playing on the radio. I’m tired of it by this point, the lights inside the shelter are too bright for me to find it funny anymore. I find a new song, a better song, that I download on my mp3 player. I play it every morning when I’m getting ready and on my way to school. I hear Adele’s delicate alto hum in my ear as I get off the bus and cross the street. The piano cadence is still ringing in my ear when I see the beat-up white truck waiting outside my school. Its turned off but it seems to drown out all the other sound around me. Ellie replaces Adele and I’m so angry at myself for having kept that song in my mp3 and question why I hesitate and keep it playing. It only lasts two to three minutes, the same amount of time my father manages to keep me outside to try and talk to me. I didn’t like this song anyway, so I don’t mind his words interrupting the chorus or the rhythm of his voice not matching the song.
“You show the lights that stop me turn to stone / You shine them when I'm alone / And so I tell myself that I'll be strong / And dreaming when they're gone”
The girl that rooms with me has discovered the song and now I’m forced to hear it everyday. I crank up the volume of my earphones but she has no courtesy and plays it outloud. She gets annoyed that my phone keeps interrupting her music and for once I am grateful at my father’s insinsting and impatient nature trying to get a hold of me.
It’s been three months and now my brother likes that damn song. He got one of his temporary teachers to get him an Ellie Goulding CD as a parting gift now that we’re leaving the shelter. To my annoyance, Mom allows him to play it in the car as she drives back to our house. I look out the window, it’s sunny and bright so the street lights are off. I let out a sight and hum the repetitive ending.
“Home, home
(Lights, lights, lights)”