sol.ace_r

When I write lyrics, I begin with the atmosphere.

When I close my eyes, a certain space comes to mind first.
The temperature of the air, the color of the light, and me standing within it.

Most of the time, I am an observer.
Even as I step into imagination, I watch from a slight distance.
It felt more precise that way.
It allowed me to see without emotions overflowing,
to remain a little objective.
And because of that, I could make finer adjustments.

The spaces of the past were often dark.
Rain was falling, something was disappearing, and sharp things were clenched in my hands.

I wrote songs like that for a long time.
After writing them, I would feel myself sink even deeper.
There were moments when writing sad songs made me sadder.

So I thought,
maybe I should write from a different direction.

At first, I forced it.
My heart was still dark and overcast, yet the lyrics pretended to be bright.
I wrote about sunlight, about smiles, about rainbows.

I erased those sentences many times.
Changed a single word, read it again, and if it felt awkward, revised it once more.

I spent a long time over a single line.
Wondering if this was truly something I would say,
or if I had merely dressed it up to make it pretty.
I read it aloud, laid it over a melody, and if even the slightest thing felt off, I erased and rewrote it.
The closer it came to completion, the more I doubted it.

And yet, strangely,
as I kept imagining brighter scenes, my emotions slowly began to follow.
The light that began as something forced has now become, to some extent, natural.

I didn’t want the people who listen to my songs to sink any deeper.
And I wanted to tell my past self that such scenes exist, too.

Still, I do not deny my darker years.
That version of me was still me.

I believe that time made this present brightness possible.

Perhaps songwriting is not about exaggerating emotion,
but about creating a space where the person I was then and the person I am now can stand together.