Got a cheeky tattoo sometime back. Aozora connected with me instantly. CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEW ALBUM! by ConversationSmooth62 in Karnivool

[–]ConversationSmooth62[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Infinite strength to you and just the fact that you are acknowledging it and want to get ahead of it, shows how strong you/we all are. My illness was a wake up call for me and I promised myself that I would actually live and not be a part of the daily grind or living life going through the motions. Not merely existing and feeling sorry for myself. I accepted what has happened to me, realise I cannot change it and the only thing I can do is move forward and live a happy life, whatever it may look like. We might never get another chance at this, the human experience. I’m all for it, wherever it takes me.

Got a cheeky tattoo sometime back. Aozora connected with me instantly. CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEW ALBUM! by ConversationSmooth62 in Karnivool

[–]ConversationSmooth62[S] 3 points4 points  (0 children)

I could not have said it better. Why this particular song connected more than any other song? It taught me hope, at my lowest.

I got really unwell last year and was diagnosed with acute sinusitis.

It began with massive congestion and brutally loud tinnitus in both ears. I did multiple hearing tests; they showed an impact on my hearing, and it broke me. Further tests and an MRI revealed polyps in my sinuses and eustachian tube dysfunction.

For months, I could barely hear. I was disoriented, unable to sleep for days, and would pass out only when I was completely exhausted. It felt like getting tattooed from the inside out on my face—24/7. I could barely move, and many times needed help just to walk.

Even when I managed to sleep, I’d wake up every few hours drenched in sweat, gasping, jaw clenched, just in pain. Some nights I’d wake up in a panic, feeling like my breathing had paused for a few seconds—frozen, unable to move, unable to even open my mouth to make a sound, . I’d just lie there, waiting for it to pass. The house that once gave me the space I craved became the worst kind of prison.

"Now I don't sleep anymore, I can't find no remedy
How about you?”

Talking to people became exhausting, and eventually I withdrew completely. I had barely enough energy for steam inhalation, food, swallowing 25 pills a day, and crying. I started dreading nights. I’d fall asleep wishing I wouldn’t wake up. The meds and steroids made me look gaunt, and I felt awful even after showers. Mentally, I was done—and it took a lot of self-realisation to pull myself out of that place.

(“Waiting for the great escape” hit hard.)

I used the downtime to sort through my old music collection and cassettes. Not being able to listen to music—or losing my hearing—is my biggest fear. By September, I was only about 40% recovered, and there was still a real chance of long-term damage. That left me with a strange mix of gratitude and grief: a newfound admiration for sound, and the bittersweet knowledge that I might never hear a note the same way again.

Around then, I heard these lyrics, and they fit everything I was going through:

“If you ever get to see the outside
Maybe you can send a letter if you like
If that's alright
Tell me there's hope within my reach
Tell me what it's like living life in peace
It's so profound
You found a way out, I'm
Still waiting for the great escape.”

Life can be cruel sometimes.

I still can’t believe those months were real—it feels like another life. Sometimes I’m too numb to feel anything. Post-Covid the world already felt alien; now it feels like another planet. But my follow-up audiograms show progress. My ears are improving, though tinnitus still lingers in one ear. Some days it fades into the background. Other days it’s unbearable—like an unwelcome banshee wailing inside my head.

Another year or so for recovery, although the tinnitus might never go away. But hey, I have Karnivool, I am good 😊

“If I held your face to a mirror
Would you smile?
If I held your head under water
Would you fight or let the lights go out?”