Emotional slave to The Beatles.

Why is it that I feel instant kinship with other Beatles' fans even though they're a dime a dozen? How can a band that reached its heyday 20 years before my birth forge invincible relationships between people?

Why does the bobbing bass at the 0:37 second mark in Norwegian Wood make me want to alternately throw my arms around the world and sob inconsolably at its impossible perfection?

Why is it that when I close my eyes and listen to "A Hard Day's Night," I cannot help but think of dancing around the house with my sisters, that when I listen to "Abbey Road," I cannot help but think of the bittersweet throes of first love, even though I've heard those albums precisely 275902492 times since those happenings?

What makes me relate so strongly to these thoughts moulded into sound?

Will I ever be able to disentangle "Real Love" from mosquito-chaperoned hugs? Will "Girl" always take me back to being three,four,five, sitting on my Dad's lap as he sang along to his all-time favourite Beatles' song?

Where would I be without the frantic drumming, voluble guitars, crashing pianos?

What would my life be like without the swooping chord progressions, the stories that have become mine, these voices, comfortingly imperfect, like old friends?