This song by Watsky stirs nostalgic feelings universally, but for me it mostly strikes a chord regarding a trip I took. What I didn't expect was that I would be broken up with right before it. 

I was back in my childhood home, a small, quiet town in Arizona. It was strangely cloudy and I was sitting next to a saguaro that I had named Mr. Kung Fu as a child because I thought it looked like it was in the middle of a roundhouse kick. I was almost crying, almost not, and somewhere close to broken. It was a strange time. 

This is a song for the time in between, when emotions don't seem to quite be able to fill all of the empty space that life just is, so listen to it during that time. Preferably alone, maybe walking somewhere you normally aren't or while the weather is behaving strangely. Something that feels oddly hollow. 

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCEsveSK5to

The pure and the clean

The silent and the unseen,

Why was this what he wished me to be?

                                                           Because it was what I was

  Far before him,

                                                                                                      And will be far after. 

They always told me that good girls meet nice men and love and are loved, just like a fairytale. 

Why was it Little Red Riding Hood? Why must I play this part?

           Why was I a thing of lust, even when I did not know its destructive kiss?

Why, when they said it wasn't my fault,

Even as I was compared to chewed-up gum, worn shoes 

by those who told me that this was how we knew, 

Did they thump an old book and remind me that we ask for it and that we're prudes?

               Fuck you. Virginity gone. 

        Fuck Virginity. Purity gone. 

    Fuck me. Fetishization gone. 

                                                   May he burn in hell for what he did to me, 

    Because they sure convinced me that I would see him there. 

I always held, 

deep within a heart of stone,

Some kind of kinship

A connection unknown

With the ones they call the gorgons.

They sit among

Humans, frozen in song, 

And let themselves believe

That nothing could be wrong. 

In that, we are the same. 

And yet,

When one stares into my soul, 

I find that I crack

Instead of freezing into a whole,

And lose myself in her spell. 

It is when

She looks away, 

That I fall,

Her ever-complacent prey, 

Into pits of snakes.

And here I lay,

Safe as sturdy stone, 

Yet I can never escape

The cracks that form of being alone

Without her enchantment to give me a home.