bitter nostalgia

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night shaking, and the memory of that night replays over and over in my mind. The pain of that night is more than anyone will know, more than she will ever know. We don't talk about it and I don't bring it up. But I still remember it often, especially in the quiet moments and in my dreams. As with all memories, the memory begins to shift and contort. There are certain moments I remember from that night clearer than ever.

I remember driving the streets at night and calling Jessie.
And I remember crying on the phone with her.
I remember walking in the front door and seeing her up against him.
I remember her smiling at me as she walked down the steps.
A cruel and senseless and unfeeling smile.
I remember taking six shots one-after-another just to drown the pain.
And I remember how it didn't work.
I remember lying in bed with the world spinning.
The world spinning physically and emotionally.
I remember lying there knowing what was happening directly beneath me.

I heard a song the other day that I've heard several other times. The lyrics capture that moment perfectly, and I listen to that song again and again, and I don't know why. But each time I listen to it, the memory becomes heightened. It is a bitter nostalgia. The song is "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers, and the lyrics in question are:

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss.
Now I'm falling asleep, and she's calling a cab.
While he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag.
Now they're going to bed, and my stomach is sick.
And it's all in my head, but she's touching his chest.
Now he takes of her dress, now letting me go.
And I just can't look, it's killing me and taking control.
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea.
Swimming through sick lullabies,
Choking on your alibis.
But it's just the price I pay: destiny is calling me.

Here's the actual song: