i've spent the entire week listening to Nurture because of a tweet in the timeline about Secret Sky from someone i've never met, and it wrecked me. i was in a perfect mental state to be wrecked (gesture at... everything), but it's my fault; i let it happen, went willingly. so the album hasn't left my consciousness for 168 hours now and this is why.

i'm on your side for the rest of your life // when we're feeling big and noble and ambitious, we seek glory and recognition from our friends and teammates and acquaintances; want to do grand things like contribute to science. but in tiny inbetween moments, sitting in the dark of your apartment at one o'clock in the morning, scrolling your phone for familiarity, scared that maybe you're wrong about everything you've ever thought you were right about, don't you just want someone to take your side, unconditionally? we spend this life wandering temporary homes, searching for the people and places we never have to leave.

shouldn't it come to you naturally? / and everyone knows / you're losing your gift, and it's plain to see / but then something must have changed in me / i don't fear it anymore // every single time i write something good i am terrified that the next thing i write is going to be so much worse; that i'm never going to write anything good again for the rest of my life and maybe i should get back to... not writing. i've been writing on the internet since i was eleven years old, until i started coding professionally, and then i wrote nothing for three years straight. i was sure that i had lost the gift. but then i found Reading Supply, and it was instantly familiar. i'm at my best when i'm unspooling thoughts into words; i was made for this.

how do you do music? well it's easy / you just face your fears and you become your heroes / i don't understand why you're freaking out // the title is “musician”, but this is true for anyone who has ever tried to create anything at all. these lines live in my head rent-free because they mirror the monologue i have on loop and have never dared to say out loud. like, of course if you want to do art you just... face your fears and become your heroes, right? that's me with a blank page open every night past midnight, thinking about what happens if i just... put words down on the page; keep writing and trust that beauty emerges.

getting made you want more / and hoping made you hurt more / someone tell me / something comforting // two autumns ago i got everything i wanted; found absolute clarity, knew exactly what i wanted out of this life. i thought that this was the going to be the time that i got it right, had it all figured out, but the restlessness never really left. now i think the only thing to do with restlessness is to simply accept it in all of its inescapable, inevitable, glorious entirety.

look at the sky, i'm still here / i'll be alive next year // i was cycling downhill on Sherbourne Street on a perfect spring day last weekend, thinking about the way that the moment felt like it could last forever; about how every time i've been terrified the feeling has passed, about how sometimes i think that i'm never going to accomplish anything worthwhile again and how i've been wrong every time. i'm constantly mystified by the universe in all of its infinite grace.

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