The song ended. The film in my head did not.

There are songs that you don't listen to just for the music. The first chords begin and, by the time the chorus arrives, you are already in another room, in another year, next to someone who is no longer there. Very efficient. You didn't ask for a ride, but you were taken.

It amuses and confuses me the way a song can preserve the atmosphere of a moment. Not necessarily its full reality. Sometimes you remember a good evening so clearly that the rest of the relationship remains in the background, somewhere next to the details that don't fit in the video.

From here to confusing the longing for that time with the desire to return is not much. Do you miss the person? Do you miss the way you were? Or do you miss the hope with which everything started, before you found out the less melodious side? I do not assume that the answer is the same every time.

You can still like a song, even if you no longer want the story it carries back. You don't have to destroy every beautiful thing to justify that something has ended. But not even a few good memories cancel the reasons why it didn't work.

I would let nostalgia exist without automatically giving it the right to make decisions. I can listen, remember, feel a little sad. And then choose not to send that message. Emotion is not an instruction, even if it has an excellent chorus.

The music can remain. The rest should not be put back on repeat as long as it sounds good in the first thirty seconds.