There are days I feel made of light.
And there are days I disappear into shadow.
I used to resist this duality—this constant shifting between softness and sharpness, between stillness and urgency. I thought it made me inconsistent. Unclear. Weak. But now I’m learning to let it live beside me. To let it be a part of what I create, not something I try to correct.
It shows up everywhere. The way I drift between isolation and connection. How I can feel invincible at night and completely transparent by morning. I used to think I had to pick one version of myself and stay there. Now I know—some things are meant to flicker.
Most of my music is born in that flicker. That unstable middle place between too much and not enough. I’ll write something soft and warm, only to layer it with something cold and electronic. I’ll record a clean vocal and purposely leave in the breath, the crack, the break. It’s not about perfection—it’s about truth. And truth isn’t always polished.
There’s something magnetic about contrast. It’s what pulls us in. The soft spoken words after silence. The sharp light that follows dark. The bittersweet. The not-quite-one-or-the-other. That’s the space I feel most human in.
I remember one night not long ago—I was stuck on a lyric. It felt too honest. Too raw. I almost deleted it. But then I stepped away, stood at the window, let the darkness just hold me for a minute. And suddenly I realized: the line didn’t need fixing. It needed to stay as it was. Flawed. Exposed. Real.
Since then, I’ve been creating with this tension more consciously. Layering fragile piano lines over deep, dark synths. Letting imperfections live in the songs. Leaving some endings open, because life doesn’t always resolve—and neither should art.
There’s freedom in accepting contrast. In letting two opposing truths exist at the same time. You can be tired and inspired. Brave and afraid. Soft and unyielding. And maybe, instead of fighting those contradictions, we’re meant to build something from them.
So if you’ve ever felt like you don’t fit neatly into one feeling, one label, one sound—you’re not alone. You don’t have to choose between the glow and the shadows.
You were made for both.
B.
