"Car Radio"

Chapter Five: "SAVE"

The pen began furiously scribbling words, faster than my mind could think. Before I knew it, I had an entire song written down, From the beginning words, to the ending phrase, I was shocked at how much emotion I put into it. I didn't know the melody, but I knew this was going to be a song I wanted to share with someone. Maybe not right now, but once I"ve worked through everything. Maybe then.

That night, I sat, staring at the small notebook in front of me. There were only a few scribbled lines, on each piece of paper. Each lasting only a few sentences, but it was as if I reserved, each page, specifically for that idea. I shook my head and looked at the top of the page. There wasn't a title, yet. What could I call this?

I stared at the page, watching as the words began to taunt me, every lyric began changing, starting a metamorphasis I wasn't happy with. Each word took on a new meaning as I re-read them, over and over; still trying to find a title to this song.

I kept talking to myself, aloud, thinking if I would say titles in the open air, something would stick and I'd remind myself of that great moment, when I finally had an epiphany, and used that word, but it never happened. Nothing ever stuck.

I began to feel less and less like a person, and more like an individual cell, just merely existing in the world, among the millions of people. I felt like a pebble at the bottom of the ocean, useless and wasteful. What was my purpose? I kept feeling this sense of doubt; and for some reason, it seemed like every time I'd open my journal, I would always open it to that page.

The one page I'd written, I was angry, frozen, distraught. It was the name that was holding me back. It kept haunting me, I knew I needed to name it, but what would I name it.

I continued to stare at this poem I'd written, the words became a cacophany in my mind, of darkened anguish and sadness, and yet it felt good to release those emotions.

"I won't take much, of your time, just know you saved me."

I re-read that line so many times, I began to get sick of it. I closed my book, and threw it in a pile, leaving it for another day. Shaking my head, I walked out of my room, following the smell of my mother's cooking. A smile tried to inch it's way against my lips, but the sullen anguish inside of me, wouldn't let the smile win.

That line, still haunted me, through out dinner, and then again while I was getting ready for bed, I was aggravated at myself that I couldn't find a good name for this poem I'd made. "Just know, you saved me." - I was angry with myself, for leaving it untitled, but maybe if I leave it alone, it'll come to me.