SONGS TO CRY TO

That floating feeling when reality softens at the edges and nothing hurts anymore. A hazy bubble of peace in the middle of the chaos. I wrote this during a time when I needed to disappear for a minute — not from life, but from the sharpness of it. Sometimes survival means letting the world go blurry.

Written at 4 AM staring at the coffee swirling in the cup and seeing the universe in it. When you can't sleep and the night feels infinite, even a cup of coffee becomes a constellation. I think the best songs come from insomnia — when the world goes quiet and the only thing louder than your thoughts is the drip of the coffee maker.

A raw, unflinching lullaby that cuts deep. This isn't the nursery rhyme you remember — it's the one you sing when the cradle has already fallen and you're picking up the pieces in the dark. For every mother rocking herself to sleep because her arms are empty.

2 AM. Phone in hand. Thumb hovering over the name you swore you'd delete. You almost called — and that almost is the whole story. This song is for everyone who's been one tap away from undoing all the healing they fought for.

I wrote this on a night I couldn't stop crying. Not the pretty kind — the kind where your whole body shakes and you can't breathe and you're screaming at someone who isn't even listening.

When the pain is bigger than the liquor store. There aren't enough bottles in the world for some heartbreaks. So you stop drinking and start writing songs instead.

For everyone who's lost someone and wished they could just make one more call. If tears had a phone number, heaven's line would always be busy. This one's for my people on the other side.