StringTheory27:That’s what the book says.That healing isn’t erasing—it’s renovating.You keep the broken parts, but you change the layout.
DeadStrings:You sound like you’re trying.
StringTheory27:I am starting.Today, it even felt like I was getting somewhere.
DeadStrings:You should keep his toothbrush in sight, like a warning sign.
StringTheory27:That’s dark.
DeadStrings:So am I.
StringTheory27:You know what I need?A song that makes me feel like I survived something.Got one?
DeadStrings:You want triumphant?Or quietly victorious?
StringTheory27:Something that says I’m working on it.I’m not healed, but ...I’m still here.
DeadStrings:“Street Spirit (Fade Out)” —Radiohead.It doesn’t celebrate.It endures.That counts for something.
StringTheory27:Since you’re a Radiohead geek, you’ll understand this.“Creep” came on the radio while I was clearing out my closet earlier.Not the metaphorical one—my actual closet.
It caught me off guard.I’d forgotten how raw it is.Right as I’m dropping all those raggedy t-shirts I’ve been saving for years, I’m listening to Thom.I didn’t even realize I’d sat down until the last note faded.The line that hit me, when he says he wants her to notice when he’s not around—God.
It’s not even about love.It’s about worth.About wanting to be seen when you already know you’re not the one they’ll choose.I used to think it was a sad boy anthem.Now I think it’s a human anthem.
Everyone’s been there.Wanting to be enough and knowing you aren’t.Anyway, I tossed out his hoodie too.Finally.
DeadStrings:That one wrecks me every time.But you know what?If we’re talking “Creep,” I’m gonna swap versions on you.
StringTheory27:You’re not going to say TLC, are you?
DeadStrings:No.Stone Temple Pilots.
Their “Creep” is a different beast.It concedes.That lethargic drawl, the murky guitar—Scott Weiland sounds like a man already halfway underground, and the shovel’s in his own hands.
That chorus where he’s saying he’s half the man he used to be ...fuck.It’s a punchline to a joke no one laughed at.It’s resignation.But with rhythm.
Feels like Sunday mornings where you stare at the ceiling and know damn well you’ve got to change—but not today.Today, you just exist with the ache.
Maybe that’s survival too.
You cleared your closet.
That’s something.
Let’s just call today an STP day.
And maybe tomorrow, we pick a fight with hope again
StringTheory27:Are you planning on picking a fight?
DeadStrings:Fight for myself, yes.It’s time that I figure out what I’m going to do with myself.Maybe I can even get a new driver’s license.
StringTheory27:Right, you lost yours.Are you ever going to tell me how?
DeadStrings:Nope.I’m not proud of it—and I don’t remember much.Yes, you can judge me.I was a fucked-up mess.
StringTheory27:Maybe instead of half a man, you might become whole.Go against Scott Weiland.
