Broken Record

My dearest wish is to be old-fashioned and hipster.

And to aid in my quest of pursuing all things classic

I received a record player for Christmas.

Yes, my family is awesome and thus,

I am one step closer to reaching my hip goals!

To help in my silly endeavors my sister buys me records

and we test each one, trying out the coolness factor.

After scrounging around at various thrift shops 

we always come home with some treasures.

Need some smooth crooning? Grab some good ol' Dean-O.

Hankering for some good tunes? Toss in The Temptations.

We thought we were in luck.

Unfortunately, the epic Carpenter's record we got was...scratched.

So, you know how normal records sounds a little different?

Well, this one sounded like a poor cat with memory loss.

Or a warbling bird who forgot his singing lesson that day.

I tried to hum and whistle along, 

but every other note their instruments skipped a beat.

But I couldn't get rid of the scratches or dips in the vinyl.

My compensating attempts just weren't enough to save the record.

I could sing louder or ignore the skipping beats,

but they were still there, grating and sad.

And I realized that, sometimes, I'm exactly like that broken record.

I shuffle through hard bits of life, skipping through the rough times

and slipping past the parts that scratch and hurt.

I want to get to the grand solos and the spotlight finales 

without facing the grating pieces and broken experiences of life.

I dislike the waiting and the stillness of the empty dips

but those rough bits are just a part of the record's story.

I have a story, filled with shuffling and stuttering

but it's still my story.

*For nostalgia's sake...*