“Maybe one day you can feel at home with happiness” she replied with a frown, though I knew she understood.
I felt at home and comfortable with her, so did that mean she’s the embodiment of sorrow?
What is sad, anyway? And why does it hold so much weight?
Corporate pop, sunshiny retail store music, and bops for kids are what we wade into for heedless acceptance and the embrace of not having to really think about things.
An Anti-Hero or a Waffle House are fun to sing about together.
But “I wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery,” and “I’ve been so unfair to me to love you like I have—chimney lips and all, please come home,” these words capture a depth of being human that 4 chords and joy almost…can’t.
Can you sing about loneliness and really mean it unless you’re alone?
And maybe the human experience is about more than just feeling.
Snapping out of it and into reality, I realize I just told her my cheesiest internal belief: that melancholy music feels familiar so it’s my home. I wonder how she’ll respond.
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