Taylor Swift - Out of the woods.
This song along with the music video tells a story about a girl who is caught in a toxic relationship by using methophorical speechs and imagery.
In the begining she is unable to let go of the boy, who can't give her stability and often leaves her broken and empty after another arguement that was ment to break them apart, and if she was smart she would leave, but she chooses to stay in hopes that maybe he will change. Each day she lives with uncertainty, wondering (are we out of the woods yet) whether they were goinf to be fine or was it just another day filled with accusation, arguments that left her shattered.
looking at how the seasons constantly changes throughout the video, proves her loyaly to sticking with him, while he is potrayed by the wolves and trees that slowly rip her dress to shreds as she runs through the forest trying to survive its darkness. The dress, symbolising her emodiment, and how he took her apart piece-by-piece until she was completely destroyed and shattered.
at the end, when she finds the light, at the edge of the woods, as she exits the woods is when she had finally realised that she was better of without him. And that leaving him was the best thing she could ever do. With the realisation that she had to lose him to find herself again, the dress becomes whole again.
Kehlani - The Letter
Every little girl has a dream growing up. Either if its being nurses . Becoming lawyers . Maybe even being ballerina . My dream was having a mommy. A mommy that could hold me when times got hard . A mommy who could listen and not back lash on your mistakes in life . I mean we're all young right ? Maybe even care enough to call me beautiful . Remind me of something i'm blind to , all because my insecurities eat away at the confidence i once condoned . Every little girl needs a mother - and damn it I needed you .
Mind Games by Sickick
( this is a strange story that kinda fits the song. I was going for something and then it kinda fell apart. Oh well ) !!!!
TW/ abuse I suppose
Yesterday I met this guy, black hair with a touch of dark brown. He was quiet but he sent a coffee cup my way and somehow, someway he guessed my favorite kind. Vanilla sweet cream cold brew. I feel like that’s a kind you wouldn’t guess people to like much, however that’s what he ordered me. Do I look that much like a cold coffee drinker? Of course, I couldn’t leave without saying something, anything. With the quiet Starbucks becoming quieter with every exiting patron, I sat myself down next to the boy. He looked a little younger then me, student in college with dark dips under his refreshing eyes. I consider myself an older patron in college. Not 40s old or anything, heavens no! Just a late bloomer in the education department. That one year off quickly turned into 8 years.
“Thanks for the kind coffee, sir,” I say, letting my county twinge sparkle in the silence. He shifts his eyes from the window to meet my eyes.
“It was no problem. You seemed tired.” His voice seemed foreign, which made me like him even more.
“I’m Poppy,” I hold out my hand with a smile. He gladly takes it.
“Robin, you say, are you gonna rescue me, darling?”
“Well I can certainly try.” I giggle. He might be more fun then a thought.
I’ve gone out with Robin multiple times since then. Every time I’m around him those butterflies flap harder, makes me wanna catch him and never let him go. He’s got an interesting backstory as well. He’s from Germany, immigrated to Fairhope, Alabama at 13. His sisters and mother live in a small house in the center of town. He apparently takes care of them, bringing them dinner every night and he takes his sisters to school. Johanna, the older one, is 15 while Poppy is 13. I want to meet them so badly, a little fast but I’m sure I could convince him to take me to his home sweet home. Let’s just say I’ve learned he’s quite persuadable, and I don’t want to say I know how to take advantage of that. However, I understand how to pull his strings. I’m going to invite him to the field tomorrow. I don’t want to imply we’ll do anything sinful, but the field is always where I’ve done it before. It’s more exciting that way. Maybe Robin was sent to save me from my boring life. My quiet, peaceful, little life.
Oh I just can’t get that boy out of my head! He’s got his cheeky little grin plastered in my mind, his soft spoken tone swarms my thoughts anytime something remotely reminds me of him. That might be because he’s told me everything. Every little detail of his past, present, future has been burrowed into my brain and keep coming up. Conversations with mother on the phone, comparing notes with younger friends, driving through town, shopping in the market. He’s imprinted himself onto the grooves in my skull and I can’t help but be excited!
Today I explained to Robin that I might be quite busy with finals taking over. He didn’t react to well.
“Are you kidding me? We just met and you already want a break?”
“It’s not a break, honey. Just two weeks so I can study. I know it’s difficult to understand with you not being in college and all but I have to pass finals. I’ll be right back in your arms once I’m done.” He continues to pout, crossing his arms like an adolescent.
“You think you can just leave whenever you want, leave me at anytime?” His voice shakes from an inappropriate amount of anger. He shakes his head, mumbling to himself.
“I’m not leaving you baby, I just need to to focus. I can’t focus when your around, you know that.” He stares at me, eyes never leaving mine. Quickly he grabs my arm and says, “you better be back.” I suck in a breath, my sweat slowly tracing his hand around my arm. His grip is tight, border-lining harmful. I shake my head, a little off put.
“Of course.” I smile up at his furrowed brow, crinkled nose, and fiery eyes. He releases me and turns his back on the door. As if not wanting to watch me leave, like he’s regretting giving me “permission” that I didn’t need from him in the first place.
The summer crept into our life soon after finals week. All As minus my chemistry final, but that’s good enough for me. My bed has slowly turned into our bed over the last few weeks, and it’s not a bother. However, having a space for myself again would be nice, but I could never tell him that. He couldn’t handle it. He’s just a lonely kid that needs some love is all. No need to pester him with me need for independence.
The sound of voices raise me from my slumber. I recognize the voice immediately, Robin. He spent the night here, as he’s been doing every night since finals week ended. I slowly turn around to see him sitting up in bed on the phone. No, on my phone. Then I see it again. That face he makes whenever the anger gets to him, I’ve only seen it one other time. A split of fear pierces through me but I take a breath to calm myself. I haven’t see him like this since the finals talk. I swear it’s a one off thing, I promise. I could never fall for an abusive man.
“What are you doing,” I mouth to him. He puts up a finger and says into the phone, “she’s been incredibly busy this summer and as I said that will continue. Don’t call again, she won’t answer.” He hangs up suddenly and stares ahead.
“Who was that,” I ask slowly.
“Some annoying old woman. She asked you to go down to Miami. Like you would ever leave me again.”
Miami. That’s where my mother lives. “Oh.” Slowly I pick up my phone and scroll through it causally. Yep it was the one and only mother dearest.
“I’m gonna head to the ladies room, honey,” I rub his leg and smile, “I’ll be back.”
Quickly I lift myself out of bed and grab my pink berry robe with clusters of red roses that could take the attention of anyone and wrap it around my figure. I leave Robin alone to sit in his own silence, almost concerned he won’t even be able to handle that. Once I’m safely across the hall and behind the closed door, I dial mother dearest again. It rings twice until she answers.
“Good lord! Who the hell was the awful man! He’ll be lucky if I don’t come up and there and stuff my-.”
“Mom! What was it you needed to talk about?” I don’t want to talk about Robin with her. It would be a bother.
“Poppy you tell me right now who that man was.”
“Good lord mom, it was nobody.”
“Sure didn’t sound like a nobody.”
“Mother what did you want to tell me? Why do I need to go down to Miami?”
“Oh Poppy you know I just need some help. The cancer isn’t sitting still, no more. Doc says it could go downhill real fast. I just wanted to see you again.” I sigh, my fears being confirmed by my mothers own words.
“I’ll try to get away to see you soon mom. I promise.” She continues talking but I’m distracted. The doorknob, it’s turning slowly. I hang up the phone as the door slams open, the sound making my feet bounce and my phone land on the thick tile.
“Your gonna try to leave me again, huh? You think I’ll let you leave? You think you’ll manage to get away, bitch?” I take some steps back.
“Just to visit my mother, honey. She’s old, she might be gone soon. I wanna see her, is that so bad?”
“Oh hoho your so funny, Poppy, just hilarious. Come on.” He quickly reaches for me and plunges his hand into my hair, gripping a fistful of the luscious red strands and dragging me out the bathroom and down the hallway with it.
“Robin stop! We can talk about this!”
“No we can’t. Obviously I’ve chosen the wrong woman. Always trying to leave me, trying to get me out of your head. Drag me out of my home.” He drags me out the front door letting the wind blow it open to the world.
“You don’t like that, huh? Always need you privacy, your independence.”
“Please Robin. I just want to see my mother.”
“And I just need someone to stick around, someone who can be my home. Your not gonna leave me again. I’ll stay a constant thought in that little head of yours for as long as I feel compelled to. That’s a promise.”
Something called her to the river that day, but she would never say what. As she approached the bank, a ballet of swans turned and swam in the opposite direction. Their arrowhead formation pointed to the cemetery on the far side. Beneath an overcast sky, the birds’ reflections were dark in contrast to their white plumages.
Beside the water, a man rose from his haunches. Kristine had not noticed him there and was startled by his sudden appearance. He turned, evidently curious as to what had caused the swans to flee, and she gazed into his wonderous face.
A more handsome man Kristine had never seen. Locks of pure gold spilled in gentle waves over his sapphire eyes. His tanned complexion told of his time outdoors and his dazzling smile struck her to the core.
‘Hello,’ he whispered, breathless. ‘I’m Lloyd.’ Though his tone was soft, his voice was strong.
Not knowing what possessed her, Kristine ran to him and embraced him, her heart pounding and her head swimming.
From that midsummer’s day to the end of September, when the waning sun ignited the sky in splendorous hues of crimson and blush, she and Lloyd were together every minute. When they made love, she believed the angels wept at the beauty and poetry they created.
His desire for her knew no bounds and, in turn, she wanted him with her, on her, in her everywhere.
Life before Kristine was meaningless. Lloyd had drifted through a grey dream without care or direction. The passion she incited brightened his days with colour and for the first time he felt alive.
The bitter irony was not lost on him, that once he found a reason to live his body began to fade. At first it was weakness in his limbs or an ache in his chest, but as the weeks passed by he lost the will to eat or sleep. He bathed less frequently, not possessing the strength to cleanse himself.
But still he was moved to demonstrate his love for Kristine in every physical manner. Even when he could barely stand or clutch a fork, he was able to maintain his stamina to please her in all the ways she deserved. All the means she quietly demanded.
Until the final day, when the potent lust was powerless to move his loins and he was expelled from the material world.
Through the veil he watched her still.
His form was ice-cold and racked with sweet agony beyond words but always he looked for her, opening his mind to feel for her as a rose opens its petals to the falling rain. Unchained in death, he yearned to caress his Kristine one more time. He needed her touch on his skin, her cries in his ears, her love in his veins.
At his graveside, Kristine could feel his presence. She offered a prayer to any god who would pay her heed, begged that Lloyd be returned to her.
Without her, Lloyd had been lost in his world, beaten and trampled by the apathy and ignorance around him. Together they had risen, they had become as gods. Every sexual encounter they shared, every depraved contortion, had provided sustenance to her soul.
She wanted more.
Death would not hold him, Lloyd swore.
Though his body was in the ground, he could not move on. Love, which he once believed lasted eternal and outlived the fragile meat and bones of humankind, did not grace him on this side of the veil. His heart was empty, void. The colours that had shone so brightly were muted as his focussed only on one thing.
He needed to be with Kristine once more and, though his soul was weak, his lust spurred him on. Her body was an addiction and he saw nothing but her, only her.
Figures circled about Lloyd’s spirit.
They called to him, beseeched him to follow them home.
Honeyed voices led the trail back to The Mother.
But he was powerless to hear them, their words as sweet as salt.
And he returned to her, fell into her swaying arm.
Mesmerised, he loved her one last time, dancing into her with a longing that spoke of the golden days.
Stars birthed behind Lloyd’s eyes as he recalled the lust, the drive, the need to sate Kristine’s desire.
Their trysts were unhealthy, he realised too late. She was a drug he could not refuse; he, a helpless addict that even death could not calm.
Their final lovemaking climaxed in passion so intense, he felt his world burst aflame.
And with all of Lloyd’s eternal soul consumed, Kristine felt something calling her on.
The Adults Are Talking by The Strokes.
Don't go there, because you'll never return. That's what they always said about the place. That's what they called it, too. Always "the place" this and "the place" that, never a proper name. You'd think that if a location was so terrifying, they’d give it a name. Perhaps a scary one, too. “Human Shredder”, “Shrine of Heros”, something like that. Now, that’s a place kids will never try to go in. Unless they’re stupid.
I guess I shouldn’t say that, because I’d be calling myself stupid too. Yes, Mom. Yes, Dad. I’m writing this letter in case I don’t come back. I’m hoping you’re not too upset, though I actually don’t care that much. Sorry if that sounds really cold hearted, but I’ve been trying to talk to you guys for the past month, and neither of you bothered to reply. It’s okay, I’m not that mad. I know you guys love me, and you probably just expected the other parent to do the hard-lifting. At this point you’ll know why I’m angry. It’s okay to be busy with your work, but I have been paying for my own food, electricity, internet, and all that. For a few months now, actually. You guys keep forgetting to do it, and I still live here.
Getting a job at 13 is hard, but not impossible if you have a few skills under your belt (and you know how to use the internet). I know you guys are busy so I didn’t bother you two about any of it. But I just wanted to ask about where my passport was, so I could register for my school’s scholarship, and neither of you would talk to me. You all kept brushing me off, thinking I was just being disruptive. But I wouldn’t be bothering you if it was super important, and I hoped you’d know that.
It doesn’t matter anymore, I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up anyways. I’m going to the place now. I’ve packed my bags, and I’ve been getting ready for a long time. School ended back in June (in case you didn’t know), and neither would the neighbors talk. I told them I had a great summer camp to attend. They told me I was lucky to have great parents.
Whatever you have to say, don’t. You won’t get a chance. Even if I live, I’m not coming back. Call it petty, or call it stupid. It doesn’t make a difference to me anyways. Only no one will tell me to shut up because “the adults are talking”, which is a welcomed change.
-Signed, Your Daughter.
The Fate of the Lonely Girl
“ロンリーガールはいつまでも届かない夢見て” is the opening line to one of the best known songs by the late Japanese artist, Wowaka (ヲワカ). The line translates roughly as “Lonely girl always dreams of unreachable dreams”. The song itself is called “Rolling Girl” and is one of the most profound works ever created using Vocaloid software (a type of voice synthesizing software that uses pre-recorded voice samples to allow a user to create music by inputting melodies and lyrics). This song has a few popular interpretations that, admittedly, helped me develop my own. So, please, take a seat, and allow me to beckon you into the world of the lonely girl.
The lonely girl is described as dreaming of unreachable dreams. These dreams are fantastical and far-fetched. Still, she stubbornly holds tight to them. Her persistence is used as a punching bag by her peers. The girl is bullied relentlessly, to the point that she wishes to “stop her breathing”. She trudges through life, gradually losing focus on her dream as her attempts to realize it fail repeatedly. The failures begin to multiply faster and faster, as if rolling down a hill like a snowball, each one causing the girl to lose more hope for her dreams. She reaches a point that the bullying and her shattered self-confidence engulf her and she succeeds in stopping her breathing, a victim to the monster known as suicide. A monster that claims far too many lives every day, its tendrils wrapping themselves around people and dragging them to the depths of despair. This is a fate that too many people meet. A fate that I myself have nearly met on multiple occasions. “Rolling Girl” reminds me of the strength and support I am so incredibly lucky to have been gifted, and I hope it instills the same kind of relief and courage to keep living in other people, so that we may avoid the fate of the lonely girl.
#rollinggirl #wowaka #hatsunemiku #songanalysis