I must have watched the Buffy musical episode a hundred times. It’s funny, it’s well paced. There’s a lot there to enjoy. I even downloaded the songs and stuck them on my iPod. Which was nice. Now I can wander down the streets singing to myself – completely ignoring the ridicule of my peers and passers-by.
But increasingly I’ve become fascinated by two very specific songs on it. The first main song about Going through the Motions and one at the end – Walk Through The Fire.
I couldn’t be more cheesy if I tried – and often I try to be cheesy because it’s kind of amusing – but it’s horrific how much I find myself identifying with the hackneyed sentiments and overblown clichés within each of these two songs. It’s like after a year of continual panic about money, ongoing tensions have been draining from my body. My life is getting better. But as it does so, I’m looking around at what’s left around me, and frankly I’m not overly impressed. So much of what I like about myself – the fire, the passion – has been beaten down by the last couple of years, and it’s difficult to see how much impact that stuff has until you’re given enough space to take stock and look around.
How can I be exhausted at four? How can I be at home wide-awake at two in the morning, bored out of my mind? Where did the energy go? Why do I feel so disconnected from the ambitions and lives of the people around me who should be my peers… Where’s the thing I get to sing about? How do I get it back?
I touch the fire
And it freezes me
I look into it
And it’s black
Why can’t I feel?
My skin should crack and peel.
I want the fire back.