"9 Crimes" by Damien Rice

Pain - n. The throb in your heart you feel when someone you love strikes you down; the two-sided pull when you can see where you're supposed to be but you can only sense where you are; the hatred you feel towards yourself for staying stuck in a rut that you could at least pretend to be out of; the feeling that floods me in multitudes as I type this.

I went nuts yesterday. I know I was at music school. I had my cello on my back. I felt it shake as I walked quickly from floor to floor. My hair was wavy. It was a mess because I stopped caring halfway through the day. It didn't matter to Stewart. It was as if that week was plucked out of Lake Placid and placed soundly in that little room where we'll spend the last hour of Saturday class. But somehow, I couldn't feel it. What existed outside that room - that perfect little microcosm - monopolizes me. I was present in the building. But my mind was lost to the confines of a greater reality.

He says he's not attractive - Jacob, I mean - but when I saw him, coming out of the elevator, I did, as always, a double take. There was no other way to turn. I had to pass him. I had to look him in the face, which is perfect in my eyes. That was where the day began - right in that spot - the spot I ran from.

I sat in class 2 hours later. I held the phone in my hands. I wanted to throw it. I wanted to break the LCD screen one more time. I wanted to slam the solid, black door open and shut in order to let the wind somehow blow me out of where my heart had landed and would not leave. I was in the room, but my mind was lost to the confines of a greater reality. As Damien would describe it, my gun was loaded, but I could not shoot. And how was he, Jacob, supposed to hold such a heavy burden?

He walked down the hallway later and it was like I'd never known him. He was upset. I could see it in his eyes. He was in pain. For once, I could percieve quite clearly how I'd affected him. But it did not comfort me. I sat on the floor, my arms enclosing my knees, wishing it could have been him to hold me and suffocate the pain his presence caused. The words he was saying - that he'd lost interest, that he doesn't want to talk, to connect, to make-out - I knew they were false comforts he was spoon-feeding himself in order to deal with what he'd fallen into. I felt sorry. Part of me wished I'd never come. Part of me wished I could have just dealt with the pain Edward had left me to clean up. I don't remember it clearly, but I do know that it was considerably less than the one I'm bound to now.

The part of me yearning to be free of this confusion began to sink into the carpeted floor. The part of me that loved him, that still loves him, chained me like a weakened warrior to a cushionless vacuum, convincing me that my purpose was above all else to make him whole. I wanted him to walk away feeling strong. I could take on the pain. I could do for him what I've always wanted someone to do for me.

When he kissed me, I froze. I couldn't move. The life I'd had before this day had been sucked out and I felt dead and unnattractive. I felt useless and worthless - yet somehow I felt something. I was frozen but I knew I wanted more and to protect myself as he had done, I pulled away. That's when I knew. I sat on the floor for an unmeasured span of time and watched him leave with some regret, some pain, and some of what I knew he'd been hiding all along.

I told him later - expressed what my instinct had told me he was feeling. I was right, but I felt no satisfaction. I felt relief I suppose. I no longer felt useless, worthless, or even unnattractive. But I am definitely angry at him for making me feel such things over a false cause.

Perhaps any of you could tell me why we as perfectly solid, mostly sane human beings have the constant tendency to love what hurts us. The love isn't going away. And the hurt isn't going away without love in return. So what is keeping me rooted in this cycle? What keeps me - a person who almost never fails - failing to break free again and again?

I want to hate what he's done. I want to hate him for making me feel like a useless distraction. That's all I am to him after all as he's told me many times - a distraction. That's my identity, instead of the dynamic, gorgeous, intellectual woman another self has known myself to be. That's my purpose in his life, to which I sold myself to be a part. I want to hate him for lying on his college essay. He implies that I don't place academics first as he does but that's the primary reason I broke up with him in the first place - because I knew from reading this essay he hadn't found himself. I knew some part of him was lying and I couldn't continue to be the ignored and undermined voice that portrayed it to him. So why have I now? I guess because I'm done seeing life from my little bubble. I'm done shaking back and forth based on my own subjective priorities. If I am worthless, or useless, or unnattractive, than at least my opinion will speak for itself. At least my voice will be heard. At least I won't be lying - pretending I don't give a shit just to mirror what I thought was his indifference. After all...my gun is loaded. And if I don't shoot it, how the hell is he supposed to hold it?

Lyrics to "9 Crimes":

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse

Is that alright?
Give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If u don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it
Is that alright?
Give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright
With you?

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be cheating on you
It's the wrong time
She's pulling me through
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse

Is that alright?
I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If you dont shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it
Is that alright?
I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright
Is that alright with you?

Is that alright?
I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it
Is that alright?
If I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright
Is that alright with you?

Is that alright?
Is that alright?
Is that alright with you?
Is that alright?
Is that alright?
Is that alright with you?

No...

Link to Music Video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgqOSCgc8xc