It has been more than a decade since I have been able to listen to without a cringing and, more so, to enjoy the Beatles or John Lennon’s songs by any degree. Ruined by a jealous guy who claimed to be re-born Lennon, the new musical messiah and my knight in a rug. I was 16. And soon enough I was watching the wheels go round and round without ever mounting to anything except all his loving. No instant karma there, except as a torture device, excuse for bad behavior – a tool to twist and shout, order me to get back in line. How dare I buy chewing gum on a free period from school and not tell him about it? It’s
like how do you sleep at night, knowing a day in the life of someone like you made a woman like me feel worthless and insecure, scared and at the same time – curiously fascinated? You were the walrus, the nowhere man that was here, there and everywhere. I had no chance. You said all you need is love – and I gave you all my loving. We dove head on to helter skelter.
In our mixed emotions and thoughtlessness it never dawned that our life together could have been so precious, and we could have grown – spread our wings and fly – and it could have been just like starting over? It rather became the long and winding road, the pressure of constant demand of oh my love, love me do. I was 19. And I didn’t yet know how to say no, I can work it out on my own. I can be me and still be worth something.
For the decade after I used to walk out the room, leave the table for bathroom, change radio channels, skip the song on playlist, talk loudly over each song as soon as I recognized it for what it was. Nobody told me these memories lose their meaning over time, but I know I’ll often stop and think about them. Thinking about the time when you showed up in a rug under the balcony and sang Jealous Guy like your life dependent on it. And maybe it did. Sure felt like it. You were just a loser. you let me down. You did warn me; you were beginning to lose control, acted like a clown.
So how do you sleep? Now the sound you made is muzak to my ears, and you must have learned something in all these years. I know I have. I have learned I am strong, I am worthy, I am smart, I am a loud mouth nasty woman that would never again tolerate what was said and done. I’m not 19 anymore.
Do I have to keep on talking till I can’t go on? Well, now I’m 31 and I am no longer grooving up slowly, well over the joker who did what he pleased, and I am reclaiming the Beatles and John, too.
Hello, goodbye and welcome back, gents, I’m sure we can work it out!