stop making sense

In a sore coincidence, it turns out my close allied music player has presently rendered itself unusable due to another technical difficulty, viz. dysfunction. I am now computerless and music-less. Sounds, every day sounds, reach me as they never have. I hear new rhythms, I make them, when I walk through the slush at school. But they are not always welcome sounds, and I quickly grow tired of tired substitutions. I am particularly lonely when I come home at night, and reflect on the empty quietness of my day. These odd circumstances have curiously painted me blue. I am not lonely, though in ways I feel quite alone.