The wintery autumn night catches me by surprise. I cycle home after a stressful afternoon of babysitting. It’s shortly after 7pm, but the sky is already tinted in a shade of rich dark blue. The air I inhale feels like peppermint in my lungs.
The sight of the lonely streets lit by yellowish street lamps fills me with melancholy and my heart aches for the heartfelt music of Keane, my favourite band I’ll probably forever relate with sad autumns and nostalgic winters. I used to love melancholy and regularly immersed myself in their songs for hours. At times, tears or even sobs escaped while listening to them. They touched my soul.
So it’s no surprise that I desire to hurl myself into their songs again, now that darkness and cold have returned. But something has changed. I can no longer immerse myself in their music anymore. The doleful part of my soul has become lighter and brighter, losing its capability of feeling melancholic.
I still love their music, but the rather gloomy mood no longer manages to capture me.
Listening to Kodaline throws me three months back, into the plane from Singapore to Europe where I listened to their songs during the whole flight after I discovered them by chance only hours before. And just like that, tears fill my eyes, more and more until I’m just sitting there, sobbing and aching because of their beautiful songs.
Keane doesn’t make me feel as nostalgic as before anymore. But Kodaline does. Probably because Keane belongs to another era in my life. They’re too familiar, I already have so many memories and feelings attached to their songs and apparently, I’m done with them. Kodaline is new, reminding me of my time in Asia and the weeks afterwards.
With a heavy heart, I accept that I no longer adore my favourite band like I used to. The connection is gone. I changed.
Something has happened this autumn, a shift within me. To say it with the words of a friend: I’ve arrived, I’m no longer cluelessly straying around in life, wondering what my next station might be. I’m calmer and more confident within – and apparently I radiate it, too (if you know me well enough).
I don’t think I could be in better hands or happier, and yet I’m constantly listening to Keane again. All emotions from my lonely nights in Uruguay years ago are flowing back. The isolation and desperation – but also the hope that got me going and this bittersweet melancholy I’ve missed so much.
This is me. I’m not just my smiling bubbly self, but also overemotional and melancholic – even if there’s no reason to be anything but happy. And it’s so good to have this part back. Now I finally feel more complete and more comfortable in my skin. This is an aspect of myself I want to foster and keep.
The photo above was taken while listening to Keane, letting the music swallow me up and drowning in my emotions. It’s not always good to be a very emotional person, but I want to use it to my advantage. Connecting to this part of me and using it to create sounds like the best thing I can do.
It seems like I’m gradually finding myself, slowly blossoming in this safe environment – both in Lucerne and here on my blog, with you around. Thank you for being here.
Funny to see how certain themes reappear – a little excerpt from a post written in April related to this:
Also, the weather has been horrible the last couple of days and sparked the restlessness and gloomy feelings in me again. Darkness. Lost. In some way I’m glad to have those feelings back. They make me creative again. I feel more connected to the person I used to be. I’m so familiar with these feelings that I miss them in the photos I create when I’m happy, as if those photos don’t show all of me and the way I see the world. The darkness is an important part of who I was; I want to include it in the photos I take, no matter of whom.
Years ago, I wasn’t able to express the darkness that nested in my soul and kept it for myself, letting it swallow me up. Now I can, and I will.
Talking about music – I’ve just found this beautiful song by Tom Odell and have to share it with you ❤️