Making believe

Making Believe is a cover song by Social Distortion (formed in 1978) on their Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell album (1992). It was written by Jimmy Work and was originally recorded by Kitty Wells and released in 1955. This song has been covered many times over the years.

I liken music to a living thing, and living things have DNA. If you could look at Social Distortion's DNA, you'd see a lot of country music in there. Country music is basically folk music, so this further cements my theory that punk rock or hardcore is folk music as well. A lot of themes pop up in folk music. There are the murder ballads. There are the lost loves. There are the drinking songs. This song is about a lost love. 

Mike Ness, Social Distortion singer, revealed a lot of his influences not only through his principal band but also through his solo work. His two solo albums, Cheating at Solitaire and Under the Influences, both released in 1999, show a rich body of influence on his punk rock music. I caught one of his shows, I think it was in Cleveland, Ohio, for his solo albums.

Regardless of the roots of the music, this song, which I don't need to post the lyrics for, conveys the deep and abiding pain of unrequited love. 

I'm pretty sure we've all been there. When my son was three and we were shopping at a grocery store, he smiled at a little girl and waved. She turned away, a sour expression on her face. He told me she didn't like him, then asked why. I said I didn't know, but that she was surely missing out because he's a great kid. This may be a silly simplification, but what if I could talk to myself like that? I guess I wouldn't be writing this post if that was the case.

Why is it so hard to move on from an unrequited love? If they don't want to be with you or if they don't feel the same way, then move on. What's so hard about that? I'm sure my son quickly forgot that sour little thing at the grocery store, but my situation seems impossible. Why?

Well, I'm not a little boy with simple thoughts in my head. I'm a grown man with years of experience. Unfortunately, none of my experience has given me the wherewithal to deal with a woman like her. She's stratospherically beyond my ability to even comprehend, much less be with. What I'm left with is a scattered and pathetic attempt to imagine what it would be like to be with her. I'm left with making believe. 

There aren't many days that go by that I don't imagine her in my arms. There aren't weeks that go by that I don't imagine waking up next to her, bumping into her in the bathroom or kitchen, or sitting next to her as the TV drones on before bedtime. Sometimes I turn my head suddenly and catch a glimpse of her. She's become a ghost, a phantom, who appears and hides at will, a product of my love-fevered brain. 

The human mind's capacity for dreaming up things that don't exist is beyond my comprehension. I know she's nowhere to be found in my life. I know it's not reality to see her or hear her or imagine her in proximity to me. She exists only in my head and heart. She's the sound of a generator churning in darkness. She's the smell of the first few drops of summer rain. She's the sight of a clear blue winter sky after a storm has torn through town. In short, she's always been there. She was a comfort to me as a boy, and she remains a comfort to me as a middle-aged man. Even if she only exists in the corners of my mind. 

It's clear she's not going away. She's a small but very powerful part of me. I don't know how or when it happened, but it did. I may never see her face to face again, but don't tell my heart. It's busy making believe.