Maybe this story should be about that mega-hit by Jimmy Eat World, “The Middle.” It all started there – the trail of music that will remain stained with memories and regret. When we met in college, she wasn’t really into music. I lived it, breathed it. Music is, was, always has been and will be my oxygen tank. And she had a boyfriend and it was the whole ordeal that a lot of people freshman year go through; away from home, familiarity, meet someone new, doubt your past decisions on your future. That song, “The Middle,” well, it wasn’t yet the huge hit that it was going to be, but I was a big fan of Jimmy Eat World and so I sent it to her as a “you can get through this” message.

It was downhill from there. Sort of. I mean, things got great and we got together and the sun rose and set with her and she loved me and I actually loved her more than the music that had been my lifeline through the hazardous and destructive years called high school. I often made mix tapes or gave her records I really loved and she would listen based solely on the knowledge that she loved me and I loved the music so she wanted to know more about me and, well, that made it feel even more special. And one day I gave her this record called False Cathedrals. I loved this album, it is one of my top ten favorite albums. I love it because it’s subtle and reserved; it’s not the blatant beauty that jumps out of a crowd, but the one that allows you to submerge yourself in the intricacies and the meaning. I loved it and I loved how similar to it she was.

And then she loved it. We never had a “song” from the record, but we’d always go silent when “Lie Close” came on, especially towards the end when that crescendo happens. I loved that the power and confidence of the album reflected her, and she probably saw how all the album’s doubt and hope was the same as the doubt and hope that clouded my heart and caused my impending-doom thought processes. I felt great because no one else I knew really liked Elliott or had heard them and I had this diamond in the rough record, this masterpiece of melodic post-hardcore that dripped with sincerity and passion and love. And I felt great because I had her and she was the type of girl that stayed back in the crowd and made you learn to love every single great thing she had to offer and nobody took time in college to really try and know anyone else; they all remained passing snowflakes in a storm, while we would sit silently, staying warm and lying close.

And then she left. The school we attended wasn’t a good match for her and there was a very bad incident in one of our classes with a teacher and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She transferred at the end of the year and because I was twenty and not confident in distance I broke it off. She knew that was how it would be when she signed the transfer papers.

I won’t go into quoting songs, because if you’ve heard the record you’d know that it wouldn’t be the easiest listen after a break-up, and if you haven’t heard the record it wouldn’t really make sense anyway because you can’t hear the passion of the vocals just through reading words. I will say that while we were together it felt like an album that perfectly reflected us, a record daring to go up against a world that destined it to fail. Now it seems like our own personal failure, and the remnants of what had once seemed perfect will be lost in history forever. Which is sort of like this album, this album that I thought – that I still think – is amazing, and now is just lost. Every time I hear it I remember why I loved it so much. I just feel like when I listened to it then there was something more, something that’s missing today. Maybe it’s the view.