This song is my grandest triumph.
I never wanted to write about love. I feared falling into line. Following in others’ footsteps, traipsing too close to a trail that’s already been tramped. I feared taking the pop route, writing music in a genre that’s been widely ridiculed for its sameness, for its lack in originality.
But the amount of impossibilities these days is endless.
How does one explain their sound without thanking the objects and entities that helped them find it? I have a multitude of muses. Some who will leave this planet someday in a state of complete and utter shock. Others’ whose lasting impacts will be but small blips on this world’s radar. Some of them are things, puzzle pieces, theories and hypotheticals. Some of them are people, stars, heartbreakers and heartbreakees.
But one muse, more dazzling than the rest, dazes and hypnotizes us all. Love.
I’ve had this on-going thought: life lacks a certain amount of meaning if I’m not actively pursuing some once-in-a-lifetime, star struck kind of romance.
This, of course, is untrue.
I live quite inexplicably with the promise that I have purpose beyond creating carbon dioxide. That my life is a whirlwind for reasons invisible to the eye. That the fates are orchestrating, constantly orchestrating. That I won’t get to my relative expiration date and think, “well, that was all for nothing.”
But, sometimes I forget all that when I don’t have some person, some attachment, reminding me of it. “You are worthy. Of greatness. Of happiness. Of unconditional devotion.” I forget my life totally revolves around me. The motion I create. The path I choose. The trail I tramp. That it’s all perfectly good without someone to share it with.
I forget when I’m out with my friends, and I can’t stop thinking about someone else. I can’t stop wanting. I can’t stop my mind from its wandering. I feel alone in groups of people. I feel worthless on days of great advancement. And it gets dark. But I’m not the only one.
I’m one of many. We don’t need someone, we want someone.
I don’t need someone to give me purpose, to make me feel whole. But it’s okay to forget that sometimes. It’s okay to be weak. It’s okay to wish you were somewhere else when where you are is where others wish to be. It’s okay to let heartbreak become you, but only for a moment or two. Because what’s left over is beautiful, raw, and untainted. It’s the sky right after the sun’s gone down, and nothing’s left but a cotton candy gradient. It’s wide open and gaping. And it stuns just as much as any kind of Love.