Do you ever revisit a song because it seems appropriate for a certain situation and you just completely fall in love with it again?
Ironic, as the song is about disappointment, disillusion, and falling out of love. I’m being melodramatic, as I tend to be when I get excited about plans that fall through. They were small plans, really, so I’ll wake up tomorrow and be fine.
Are we awake?
Appropriate for late disappointment and life contemplation. I sit here and all I can think about is how I’ve missed out on potential plans, how this Netflix isn’t keeping my attention anymore, how I can’t fathom that my attention span would last a page into a novel. I’ve read a little, eaten a little. I’ve finally changed into my pajamas, admitting defeat.
And I turn on this song: “A Change of Heart” by the 1975.
Most people know my obsession with this band. It’s quite trashy and comical sometimes. I made it my pin for my register at work (it’s not that anymore cause I have to change it so often), and one of my coworkers even called me over to look at a customer’s purchase because the price came out to $19.75.
I never found love in the city. I just sat in self pity and cried in the car, oh I just had a change of heart.
I was listening to this song in the parking garage at Alewife when I still lived in Concord. Privately, there were many things going on in my life. I had just moved to Boston. The person I hung out with the most was my sixteen year old cousin. I was searching and applying for jobs I wasn’t even totally sure I wanted. I remember feeling alone, but somewhat hopeful. I wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be, but I was somewhere. Maybe, in retrospect, I’m romanticizing it a little. Maybe because at the same time, I had the other line in my head from the 1975’s earlier album. In “The City,” Matty sings, “If you wanna find love, then you know where the city is.” It’s a catchy tune about a kid who gets caught counting cards and does some community service work.
Anyway, now I am here, actually living in Boston proper, and I’ve just started feeling at home. I’ve gotten to know my coworkers, human and dog, well enough that we can be friends. On the outside, I go to work, I eat, I hang out with more than one person now. Originally, a place that I felt I didn’t belong has become a home to me.
Still, on the inside, I am restless. Where am I going with my life? Should I pursue a romantic relationship with someone? Should I get a plant if I may be moving soon? I feel a sort of dread that nothing will change, even though things have been, and still are, changing every day.
You used to have a face straight out of a magazine. Now you just look like anyone.
“A Change of Heart” is such an important song to me. It signifies growth. Though the song is supposed to be sad, to me, it is triumphant. The song is about someone who recognizes the shallowness of his relationship with a certain girl, realizing that he may have outgrown his original desire for her. It reminded me of high school: how, during high school, I wanted so desperately to belong and to be accepted, and how I was also steadfast on marching to the beat of my own drum, despite others’ apparent distaste. (Go high school me, for real.)
When I went to college, these fears still deeply submerged me in a world of anxiety and dread. I’m not sure if I just didn’t mesh well with others in my dorm or if it was because I was undiagnosed and unmedicated. Either way, things weren’t working out. Later in the semester, I decided to fully commit to a friendship, one that I tentatively dipped my toes into during visits to the cafeteria. I’m not really even sure why I hesitated, because she’s one of my best friends now and an absolute treasure to behold. And, unlike many other people I’ve had in my life, she never once asked me to change. I gained others like her, and those people in high school that never accepted me now feel like something so small and far away. I will admit, it is still a small thorn in my side. Scorpios like me have a hard time letting things go, and I have the unfortunate memory of an elephant.
Point is, something that I once highly desired and valued started to look worn and cheap to me. I had moved on. And, damn, I don’t think anything ever felt better than that.