I remember the day I first saw you - you were on sale as if a price could be attached to your beauty. Simple, tangle-free, with a microphone: you were love at first sight. You didn't lie beyond my reach, beyond the humble beginnings of my salary. It was fate, almost as if you were meant to fearlessly explore my wax-filled ears. I guess I'll never know for sure. Fate, my love, lies beyond the realm of knowing.

So you arrived, all neatly packaged, in a box covered with waaaaaaaaay too much tape. But I fought through the tape, for ours was a love that transcended petty barriers of extra-secure packaging.

It was a love that existed in its own universe, where voices drowned out and music became something that fused our souls. I'll admit: you weren't my first pair of earphones. My ears have had many earphones within them, and I used to throw each set away without much care. But you, with your will to not get spoiled and give fabulous sound, you stayed. You carved your tune into my heart, played music until it flowed through my veins. You weren't my first pair of earphones, but you will always be the first I didn't buy from the station. And what a privilege it was to spend money on you.

But most importantly, my love, you blocked out the noise. You blocked out the incessant talking, those words that threaten to invade my carefully constructed kingdom of calm. You became the unspoken 'please do not engage in conversation with me' sign. You became the reason people knew I was lost in my own melody, a melody you made real.

I've often watched myself get late while looking for you, beneath the tangled mess of my life. But you, my love, are worth getting late for. You've added meaning to my endless daily traveling - every bus train ride seems to become more meaningful with a slightly emotional song (maybe Taylor Swift crying about moving on or something) blasting into my ears. It's like my world isn't simply made up of forced conversations and scenery; it's an adventure. It's a song that dances to its own uniqueness.

Yes, we've had our issues. You came with promises of being tangle-free, and I've spent hours trying to get you untangled. But you have survived, through and through. We have survived. You are a shield, wires that save me from the world.

PS: I'm sorry for losing you. I still love you, but it's not my fault you're so easy to lose. Don't worry, I still miss you (mostly because my new earphones haven't turned up yet).