I love a band who knows me better than I know myself.

I grew up with music whose lyrics I couldn’t relate to.

No, I understood everything. There’s a particular brand of poetry that bands from the early 2000s released, it was this brand that one could easily break apart, identify, but not necessarily relate to.

Perhaps it was my age.

At the time, the bands I loved were averaging around 23 years old, the age I am right now, and suddenly I got to thinking that these songs should be relevant to my life once more. But that’s the trouble when it comes to growing up and finding new music – the music from the past, while it might give you the same feeling, they might never be relatable simply because you relate the sound to a time and place when your timeline had been clean and free of black marks. Music is a form of storytelling, and two lives might never experience the same kind of heartache.

I couldn’t relate no matter how I hard I tried, and the kind of frustration that one emits from not being able to truly comprehend how a musician feels in the midst of a song laced with love and longing – it turns into loneliness.

It was almost like having a friend call out for advice and not being able to give it. These bands were the older siblings who grew up before me, and I couldn’t catch up. They were the big brothers and sisters leaving notes as they depart, “There’s a kind of love out there that might hurt you, but I can’t tell you how.”

I went to all the concerts and drowned in the sounds of the guitars echoing across the venue. My heartbeat matched the tempo of the drums, booming down to my bones forcing me to listen. It was enough to keep me satisfied, never really knowing what was going on in the head of my favorite musician. Songs crying out, “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t need you? Because I wouldn’t believe you if you said the same to me,” I heard them all, and I knew every word. I sang my heart out and dreamed of being on stage, but I ultimately knew that my lack of experience in love would leave that journey with no definite end. I was no artist, but I was going to try because I wanted to understand the emotion behind it all.

So I started writing.

It’s safe to say that the music of my youth gave me the diction I use so effortlessly, and their anthems of heartbreak were my reference. I could pull stories from lines between lyrics, and I was happy to do so. But then I realized, I didn’t know how to write about a lasting happiness – only impending sadness. Maybe that was because this was all I really knew.

I turned to this music when I found love for the first time. This music allowed me to cry thinking that there was a voice in my ear saying, “Don’t worry, you aren’t alone.” I fell on this music believing that they knew me, but really they didn’t. These lyrics weren’t my own, and I couldn’t completely immerse myself into it.

Day6 debuted with the song ‘Congratulations,’ and when it was shown to me, I gave it a listen and knew almost immediately there was something about this band that was different. I felt uneasy. I couldn’t listen without looking down at the floor, but why?

Are you that happy? Your smile goes up to your ears. For me, my heart still hurts every time I breathe,” these were the words I couldn’t bear to hear.

In 2015, I was in a relationship that left me with little air to breathe. The company was toxic, and my friends had all gone. It was like being hung from a post and being told I was his IV drip. If I tried to leave, he wouldn’t have it. I was more than ready to leave, and I had tried. ‘Congratulations’ felt like an angry letter to me from the man I didn’t love anymore, and I wasn’t strong enough to argue back because perhaps it was a truth that I didn’t ever want to hear. I wasn’t in love anymore.

So I stopped listening.

And I stayed.

‘Letting Go’ was released at the tail end of my time with him, and it was a siren call. I had avoided the song at first, truthfully, but when I listened, I felt this burning pain in my chest. This wasn’t the angry love letter like their first song, no, it was exactly what I wished someone would say to me. I wanted this wretched love to let me go so I could breathe freely for the first time in two years. I just wanted to be happy.

It became a love/hate relationship with their music. I loved it but understood it to the point where I thought it had publicised my mistakes and my faults. It was almost as if someone took the poetry I tucked away and wrote a response back just as cleverly worded as my own. This was something I just couldn’t ignore.

I felt my two worlds melting together. The sad love songs with the new culture of Hallyu that I fell into – it was all in this band, and I couldn’t stop listening.

There are certain elements to KPOP that all groups possess along the lines of visuals, musicality, and personality. Unfortunately, a lot of groups are unable to succeed as these elements can only produce so much original content until anything new automatically falls into the trend and overlooked.

Day6 wore the aspects of music that I thought had been long gone. The music of that shaped me had grown into something unfamiliar, and here they were, embodying what I thought was lost right when I needed it most.

With the release of ‘Moonrise’ around the corner, I found myself completely supporting this band just as I had with the bands I loved before them.

When you find a group who narrates your mind when no one else can, expect them to do great things. Find comfort in them because, without needing to announce it or hold your hand, they are your friends who speak louder than you are able to. These are the friends who remind you, “I’ve been there, too.”

I hope you’ll stay beside them.

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To the Next Guy Who Says He’s Always Been Attracted to Me

“I’ve always been attracted to you.”

While I don’t advocate the use of subliminal messages through Facebook statuses and Tweets, this needed to be said. Since last year, this phrase has been used on me a handful of times, and I think at this point it was more than pertinent to my life.

I don’t care.

I don’t care if you’ve always been attracted to me. I do not know you on an emotional level, and if I can’t even remember the last time (or the only time) I ever held a full conversation with you, do not say this to me. The only thought that goes through my head is, “if you were always attracted to me, why didn’t you tell me when I was attracted to you?” Needless to say, I’ve learned that even the nicest faces that can tempt the naive are the ones that disgust the ones who see right through you.

Sure, it sounds harsh, but this is me being honest.

This is the side of me that you do not know and probably have no desire to discover. You saying that you’ve always been attracted to me might be a compliment to my physical ego, but it is the biggest insult to my intellectual pride. This is the girl who you only look at from the surface; these are the words you will most likely never hear upfront because you have no desire whatsoever to know what is beneath my skin or – even worse – beneath my clothes.

I dress to showcase my personality. I was born with this face. I chose this style of makeup. Nothing is here to tempt you, tantalize you, or titillate your desires.

This craving of yours is temporary, and that is not what I want.

These words are your bait, but it isn’t the brand that will make me bite.

This message is by no means intended for the guys who mean this in the intellectual way, but now that I think about it, if you were attracted to my mind, there is no way you would have said this to me.

Being attracted to someone and liking someone are two completely different aspects. I can be attracted to you and have no intention of pursuing you. The one who invests in pure attraction is the fickle one, and the latter has the dedication that I need. I am not the expensive item on the shelf that you can con into a lower price because of a few words.

I do not care.

At the root of all things, the more you use that phrase on a girl who would be willing under the condition that you actually care, the more likely you are to be alone and without the company you will later crave. And when that one escapes – the one you really want for more than just the physical company – you will see what the others really wanted.

I do not want temporary.

I do not want emotionless company.

I do not want to be one of the bodies in the morgue of memories with no names because they’ve all been forgotten.

I put my value on a pedestal, and the only ones who I will let in will be the ones who see more than what I display for the world to see. They are the ones who see beyond the persona of a strong girl who can take care of herself. They are the ones who want the company I am willing to give.

Save your words and your superfluous efforts.

I’d rather be considered the one who got away than the girl who was weak to words.

 

Why Everyone is Losing Patience with Love

“A fine mix of unicorn blood, witches brew, and broken hearts.”

There are two priorities Millennials have nowadays. One might lead to the other, but ultimately, we choose one for the time being as we ignore the other.

In my opinion, a majority of young adults within my age bracket can willingly admit to focusing on work as a priority. Due to the competitive nature of the current economy and overall job market, putting all focus on our career is deemed as a completely sensible outlook on life. This general subsection of young adults who put work/education above all other matters have goals to keep, and there is little room to distract.

The second and most cliched priority that anyone would be embarrassed to own up to is love. I think most people secretly wish for it, but, upfront, love is a fairytale – it’s for the foolish, for the weak – and love is the only force in this world that breaks you faster than you can break yourself.

There’s nothing wrong with love. It’s beautiful and perfectly flawed. It generates dreams beyond reality with little fuel required. Scraps of hope bloom into fantasies, music, and the subjectively inevitable romance. No, there is nothing wrong with love.

The flaw and the dilemma lies within the effects of love.

Think of romance like a bottle of liquor, unopened and chilled, a crystal blue glass visage, tightly and securely sealed by a flimsy piece of metal worth no more than two pennies. That safety seal breaks at the first glance, and it might remain as such until you get curious enough to expose that liquor to the air. But who knows how long that will take? Minutes, hours, months – however long until the curiosity  burns through your fingertips.

That first charming sentence – however impactful it may be – is what opens bottles. And as the conversations take place, a shot goes down every time your heart beats a little too fast.

(Everyone holds their alcohol differently – so relate these numbers as you would to your own pace.)

The first shot burns, and the initial panic hits your stomach yet something tells you to continue. Shot number four is when you begin to laugh too easily, and number five is when the room starts to spin. By the eighth, everything slows except for your thoughts.

Even if you choose to stop sipping, the alcohol sits, blending in with your bloodstream until you don’t actually know if it’s still there or not.

Under good circumstances, the high remains until the affection is so secure you don’t need to drink anymore. You stay awake until the blur fades, and you can sleep peacefully knowing all will be well in the morning. This is the route we all wish for from the moment that seal is broken – an infinite inebriation and a sweet surrender to affection.

I don’t think it’s the most common route, and this is probably why the bottles cease to pop or cheaper, more destructive bottles are chosen.

In the more common and most plausible route, you lay down in the midst of the rumbling in your head – that only makes it worse. However it may happen, the bottle might be taken away or you choose to close it on your own with whatever strength you have – you know as you shut your eyes that the hangover is inevitable. The emptiness and the tears, the broken words and the wrong steps – the hangover can last as long as you let it until your body finally goes back to normal.

And suddenly that bottle and its taste is just another memory either to be looked at with fondness or discomfort.

It’s unfortunate that too many people experience the hangover until they can’t bear to even look at another bottle. Not enough dreamers get to live the life-long happily drunken state before being abruptly shaken awake.

The patience for those who made love a priority has worn thin. Eventually, all the dreamers of the world will return to reality.

Rethinking the Term ‘Lonely’

I think that word gets thrown around too often.

If you think about it, two of the most overused and commonly misused words in the English language might be ‘love’ and ‘lonely.’ And often enough, one follows the other in most situations.

The distinct differences between ‘love’ and ‘in love’ or the ones between ‘alone’ and ‘lonely’ can be forgotten, letting the words slip passed our mouths whether we notice it or not. I find myself very reluctant to use the word ‘lonely’ unless I absolutely mean it. Truthfully, over time, I just grew used to keeping certain company, and during the transition to a new atmosphere, I thought I was losing my breath, when in reality, I just didn’t notice that I was adapting in my own way.

I’ve witnessed a couple of heartbreaks within the past year, one of them being my own, and, while it was a conscience ripping experience, I now know that I wasn’t really lonely. I grew used to his company, the routine, the lifestyle I picked up that was ‘me and him.’ In the process, I neglected to see that the original company I kept had not really changed. I was not alone. The same people who kept me from being lonely in the past were still there, but my mind had been so in deep with someone else that I just… forgot about them.

That was my mistake.

Thinking back to my previous post about the subjectivity of romance, I looked past the friends whose memories had been tattooed onto my skin and only saw his name – a temporary tattoo extended with extra care and my own neglect.

“The sea never falters.”

These are the experiences of people who are not actually lonely – they just crave the company they became used to.

It does not do to leave the world you’ve made as your own for a dream in the hopes of making it a reality. Youth in love, youth alone, youth intertwined with the circumstances of the freedom to give yourself away – it should never be confused with that step towards being away from that world for so long that it becomes foreign. Know your world, know why it exists. See why your world is where you are safe.

Don’t throw away the key and you won’t be lonely.

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