The first time I heard this song  it was around Valentine’s Day. A close friend of mine sent out these mix CD’s for the holiday that were filled with songs and bands that at the time I had never heard; songs and bands I would end up falling completely in love with. The Libertines were on that CD, and anyone who knew me that year (and the year to follow) probably remembers what that band meant to me. Ted Leo and The Delays were on that CD. Arcade fire, too.

I’m telling you, this was quite a mix.

This song was among the tracks, too

Lua took me apart on the first listen. It seriously dismantled me in ways that certain songs, moments in film, and pages of books sometimes do. I remember having to pull the car over to the side of the road and remind myself to breathe. Years before, in my first step into my twenties, I had been so much like this song, so much so that tears were streaming down my face on that side of the road, while Conor Oberst’s fragile voice trilled out over the strum of his acoustic guitar.

There is so much beauty in thi song, and so much desperation. A certain kind of loneliness that you only recognize when you have spent nights out far too late in smoke-filled clubs, pressing up against strangers in stairwells and dance floors, and making excuses to disappear into the bathroom with chemicals tucked in your purse.

It has been years past since I was that girl, but I still recognize her. I will always recognize her. I still have her heavy heart beating inside my chest.

Lua :: Bright Eyes

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