I’m not ashamed to say it: I’m a big country music fan. Hell, I lived in Austin for a year, how could I not be? But right now more than ever I’m taking solace in the wise words and lyrical ways of the likes of Taylor, Reba, and – of course – the Dixie Chicks.
In fact, I’ve made myself a nice little Spotify playlist charmingly entitled, ‘J**** Ch**** I feel like S***’. I added the *s in case anyone’s easily offended. The original is far more crude.
Well, today (break up day 20 as it goes) I’m listening over and over and over and over to the Dixie Chicks ‘Am I the Only One (Who’s Ever Felt This Way?)’.
Every word rings so fricking true it had me sobbing on the Central Line this morning. I guess the secret’s in the name. Yes, it makes me cry til I’m red and shaky, but it feels good to know that – if the Dixie Chicks are singing about it – I can’t be the only one who’s ever felt this miserable. Misery loves company, right? And if others have lived through this steaming pile of crap then I can too.
I’m smothered by this emptiness. I wish I was made of stone. Like a fool I led my soul to love and it paid me back in change. There is a wound inside me and it’s bleeding like a flood. There’s times when I see a lot ahead, but hope is not enough. Yes, yes, yes. I feel all of these things, Dixie Chicks.
But there is a line with which I take exception. ‘And it wrung me out, and strung me out, and it hung years on my face.’
Dear. God. No.
I think I’m a pretty average-looking girl by all accounts. I’m not one to plaster on makeup or get overly concerned about the state of my hair (which hasn’t been cut in eight years). But, by fortunate accident, I’m blessed with looking about five years younger than I actually am. Ain’t no way I’m letting this break up take what remains of my youth.
Pizza of Doom 
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