I'm sat here, headphones on, kicking back with my music collection and every moment that passes I mourn the loss of yet another song that I no longer own.
Due to me being forgetful, relying on old hardware and my incessant fiddling with my computer most often resulting in having to wipe my hard drive and start again, I am now without a whole legion of music I greatly miss.
I don't take pictures, I have words and music to rekindle memories. I've never been one to take a hundred photos of everything I do, even while I'm over here I find myself giving my camera to other people and telling them to take pictures so I can get them later. But music, music holds memories for me. There are tracks that just ARE my first year of university. I know that if I listen to Korn I will be immediately transported to my little room in Singer Hall, with my Wharfdale speakers under my desk, my window open, my Tiny pc sat on the floor and my oversized monitor taking up too much desk space, an essay about Sustainable Development on my screen, old books scattered on my desk, last nights kebab rapper on the floor, a pair of oversized blue and yellow Y-fronts with my name stitched on the back in sequins hanging from my notice board, an empty bottle of Seirra Tequila gathering dust and my walls covered in funky pictures from papers and magazines.
Rob Zombie is drinking copious amounts of Bacardi and Coke before going out to Corporation and dancing the night away.
Jarre is sitting in the front room going through cd after cd looking for the track I really liked but couldn't remember the name of.
Bon Jovi and Meatloaf are my GCSE's.
Zero 7 is my final year, sat at Chris' house, putting the world to rights, slowly drinking Gin and trying not to fall asleep on the sofa.
But so much is gone now. I've lost all my Dispatch, my Jack Johnson, my Murderdolls and my Norma Jean. Sure, not all the music I have is good, but it doesn't need to be because at some point is was MY music. It meant something to me. It was a part of my life. Whether is was playing the same track of industrial metal at full volume again and again because I thought the drum hook was so good, or whether it was playing the same chilled out track time after time while I was nurturing a hangover, the quality of the music sometimes just doesn't matter, it's the quality of the memories.
My current playlist is awesome, don't get me wrong, it's just become apparent that so much I once had is gone. Once I'm back home I'm going to make amends to this. I'm sat here aching for certain tracks and no matter how hard I try I cant make them suddenly appear on my computer.
A picture may paint a thousand words, but for me, music is the whole damn book.