I used to collect songs. Every time I came across a new one — on the radio, at a club, coffee shop or store — I would get the name, bookmark it and keep it. This collection was my modern version of a mixtape: a list of links I would send to him, the one who had captured my mind, body and soul, day after day, with all the stories I had for him, heartfelt expressed through the lyrics.
Sometimes the moment wasn’t right. Maybe I was pondering a new thought or feeling. Or perhaps we were having a sour patch in our friendship, so I wasn’t quite ready to share the song and as such would patiently wait for the time to be right. But most times, the songs were fun, deep, twisted or exciting, or all of the above. And all in all, music was my conduit to say what I felt I needed to say, and for us to enjoy a moment of deep connection.
One day I shared a short poem I found on social media. It was very short by powerful, and metaphorically spoke of how songs can come alive, and either free or cage you, move or paralyze you, help you hide behind the melody or make you confront your truth with their lyrics. He responded with a song that perfectly illustrated that which said:
“I assure you those fools will never understand
that if we are unfaithful, it’s for a great love.”
It was one of the first times he admitted his feelings for me, and while I felt free, I was also paralyzed, trying to hide behind that beautiful song, but confronted with a truth I did not want to see.
Our kind of love was never meant to be a part of what we did. Our relationship was meant to be the best friendship one can hope for. Throughout the months we spent talking, we supported and listened to one another’s stories, hopes, fears. We shared knowledge, learned from each other, and celebrated growth in our individual journeys.
Our kind of love was never meant to be a part of what we did. It was meant to be an ear that would listen, a mouth that would give advice and eyes that would help the other see. It was meant to provide that “someone to know and to turn to” with our unique ways.
Our kind of love was never meant to be a part of what we did. Even in our moments together that left room for mischievous looks, accomplice smiles, and flirtatious conversations, our love was always meant to remain innocent.
Our kind of love was supposed to be a manifestation of our essence in a safe way. A release of our true spirits, a way to tap into our deep instincts and enrich our experiences without risk. Lewis Capaldi’s song “Someone You Loved” explains it beautifully:
[…] somebody to heal
Somebody to know
Somebody to have
Somebody to hold
He became somebody that helped me heal. I let my guard down, and he became somebody to know that knew the depths of me and shared his in return. He became somebody to have around not to feel lost or scared when our vulnerability was raw, and who could feel the same way as well. He became someone with whom I could share those levels of intimate knowledge of who I am, and somebody to hold and be held by spiritually.
I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain
I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape
I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.
But emotionally charged days and nights of conversation shaped a love that was not supposed to be instead. A love that the masses would not condone. And the turmoil created carved wounds in our hearts and souls, shattering our friendship and keeping us apart. Those wounds are still open and bleeding in my case because I was getting kind of used to being someone he loved.
Now the day bleeds
And you’re not here
To get me through it all
I let my guard down
And then you pulled the rug
The truth is that it is tough to live without the companionship, the laughter, the understanding, the compassion and, yes, the love and all he gave me. It was very easy to get used to it all, and very hard to accept that I am someone he can’t love no matter how much he wants to.
And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes
I fall into your arms
I’ll be safe in your sound till I come back around
I dream day and night about being able to rescue the friendship we once had. But I realize that the wrong kind of love sometimes causes tremendous harm and imprints wounds that exist beyond repair.