Over the past weeks, I’ve spent countless hours writing, crossing out, rewriting, and listening inward. And now, something important has taken shape: the first full draft of the lyrics for my next album.
Of course, I know they’ll still change as the music takes form—songs have their own way of asking for rhythm, for refrains that stay with you, for silences where words no longer fit. But the foundation is here, and it already stretches across six and a half pages. Honestly, I can’t imagine how much music it will take to carry all of this. What I do know is that this record is going to be huge—not just in scope, but in emotional weight.
At its core, the album is about the deepest human struggle: acceptance and rejection, and how we live through them inside ourselves. Each song marks a step along that path. In a way, it’s like a love story turned inside out—moving from hope to struggle, through despair, anger, disappointment, and sorrow, until it finally arrives at resignation and maybe even reconciliation.
But there’s one thread that never disappears from this journey: love. The voice in these songs keeps on loving, right to the very end. Even when that love is rejected, even when it leads to heartbreak and death, it remains. And this raises the real question: does love hold a universal meaning that can outlast death itself? Is there something in our most human emotions and struggles that is stronger than mortality—something that ultimately justifies life and gives it meaning?
That’s the question I want this album to wrestle with. The story it tells may end in tragedy, but my hope is that the music itself will carry something beyond the darkness—that in the end, there is still light, still a glimpse of hope.
Thank you for walking with me on this journey. These words are only the beginning, and I’m grateful to have you by my side as the music slowly takes shape around them. I’ll be sharing more as the album comes to life—and I hope you’ll stay with me until the very last note.