SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF BOYS

Sometimes heartbreak is just the loss of a fantasy, or the realization that you can’t love someone into loving you.

Every boy I have ever wanted has songs that sound like his voice, lyrics that sound like his words, and instrumentals that sound like his lack. Throughout the years, I have collected hundreds of songs that remind me of boys. I write out the lyrics like they are poetry, annotating the blank space, penciling my own story in between the stanzas. And within the white space, I dream. Sometimes I’m afraid that dreaming is the death of me, and what is a crush if not a dream? 

I met James at a party. He told me I was beautiful like a Renaissance painting, and I ended every joke with my hand on his upper arm. He held my shoulders while we danced. It made me feel like a marionette doll, and I liked it. In return, I spent all week fantasizing about him: what it would feel like to hold his hand, what it would feel like to lie underneath him, what it would feel like to be his love. 

I glow pink in the night in my room/ I’ve been blossoming alone over you/ And I hear my heart breaking tonight…/ Do you hear it, too? (Mitski, “Pink in the Night”)

Sometimes heartbreak is just the loss of a fantasy, or the realization that you can’t love someone into loving you. The way I dreamt about James was all consuming. I let my desire overtake me like mold. Part of me believed that if I wanted something enough, it would manifest in front of me. I was his; I believed—or rather hoped—that meant he was mine. Nothing mattered to me the way he did. 

My love must be a kind of blind love/ I can’t see anyone but you/ Are the stars out tonight?/ I don't know if it's cloudy or bright/ I only have eyes for you, dear. (The Flamingos, “I Only Have Eyes For You”)

Lust-drunk and undressed, I felt his chest rise and fall underneath my ear. I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat. I was touched, and in that moment, I believed that meant that I was loved. My dreams were in my arms, against my lips, holding my hips. I was quiet. 

You couldn't have, you couldn't have/ stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody/ who loves you more/ So I will wait for the next time you want me/ like a dog with a bird at your door. (Phoebe Bridgers, “Moon Song”)

I waited for him without being wanted by him. I watched my dreams slip through my fingertips. I filled my days with the songs that sounded like his name. I felt them emanating from my chest like the lyrics were my own.

Stand guard/ when I am near/ clinging on/ to everything you fear/ keeping me close/ while you hold me out and say/ “I don’t love you that way.” (Clairo, “Harbor”)

A year later, he admitted that he would have said anything to spend the night in my bed. I admitted that I would have said anything for him to stay. 

Why do I tell you how I feel/ when you're too busy looking down my blouse?/ It's something I wouldn't say out loud/ if touch could make them hear, then touch me now. (Clairo, “Blouse”)

I never spoke to him again. But there is hope in abandonment. So I let go. I let go of the boyish tethers trapping me like gravity. 

I lost sight, then I made up my mind/ to learn to release/ the dreams that had died…/ To remember the ghost/ who exists in the past/ but be freed from the longing/ for one moment to last…/ And walk through the fires/ of all earthly desires/ and let go of the pain/ that obstructs you from higher. (Ansel Olsen, “Through The Fires”)

Every sickening, dreamy, lustful melody stayed with me long after he left. The songs haunt me like they are the ghost of the boy himself. Transcendent, the melodies defy laws of time, bringing the past into the present. But who does a ghost belong to, if not those that it haunts? The songs, like my dreams, like my love, belong to me. What am I, if not my love? 

My love is mine all mine/ my love, mine mine mine/ Nothing in this world belongs to me/ but my love/ mine all mine. (Mitski, “My Love, Mine All Mine”)

AUTHOR: Violetta Balkoff

ARTIST: Seunghyun Cho