Yeah, that title is totally a reference to that emotionally overwrought, overplayed song from Placebo. You might also recognize it from that late 90s trainwreck-of-a-film, Cruel Intentions.
You might also recognize it from my not-yet-made trainwreck of a life. Just kidding. Sort of. You see, I’m listening to the Cruel Intentions soundtrack and a fuckton of Nirvana and Pearl Jam, reminiscing while drunk in my bedroom.*
*Bedroom is located in the basement of my parents’ house. I am closing in on 25 years of age. FUCK. ME.
I suppose there isn’t much to say, except that every time I hear the opening to Bittersweet Symphony, Smells Like Teen Spirit, Glycerine, or any Pearl Jam song- I am automatically transported back to a time when things were simpler. I suspect everybody has a similar response when they hear music from their childhood, regardless of age/time/place. It just feels so fucking intangible now.
The nineties, for me- were a time of trapper keepers and candy, drinking as much Dr. Pepper as I could handle, skipping rocks on the lake at my family’s cabin, long drives with my family, winters punctuated by the sheer joy of snow days, hot and sticky summers that smelled of tar.
There was no cancer at that point. Not in my immediate family, anyways. My grandmother was diagnosed and eventually passed away, and I suppose that was my first real loss. But for the most part, it was quiet. Peaceful. I was bullied at school but dealt with it in the way most smart kids do - withdrawl and deep loyalty to my few friends. It was manageable. In memories, everything kind of glazes over with this weird, sparkling sheen. I am pretty sure it’s called nostalgia.