What am I supposed to do now? 
Cycle through the photos, 
and re-watch old home-videos, 
and try to convince myself it's real 
when I can still hear your voice 
down the hall? 

You said 'I'd carry on', but how? 
You never told me what to do 
when every part of this old town 
belongs to me and you. 
But there's no you, now. 
There's no you, now. 
So what am I supposed to do? 

And I know if I wasn't me, 
then it'd be easy to see 
all the ways that you're still here; 
all the ways you made sure 
to hang around for me. 
'Cause everyone else says they see, 
they all tell me they see 
you around here. Well, 
why won't you show yourself 
sometime 
to me? 

Is it my fault that I can't find 
a way to ease my own mind 
from all this grief? 
'Cause I can't breathe. 
And do they mean it when they say 
that someday I'll find a way 
to heal in time? 
'Cause I still miss you all the time. 

Wish I could tell you one more time 
that you're the best thing, 
you're the best thing, 
the best thing I've 
ever called mine. 

And I know if I wasn't me, 
then it'd be so easy to see 
all the ways that you're still here; 
all the ways you made sure 
to hang around for me. 
'Cause everyone else says they see, 
they all tell me they see 
you around here. Well, 
why won't you show yourself 
sometime 
to me? 

Please, just to me? 
Please, show me 
that you're still around 
for me. 

'Cause you're the best thing, 
the best thing, the best thing, 
I've ever called mine.  

'If I Wasn't Me' - 2021.
Every part of this old town belongs to me and you.

I wrote this in 2021 (possibly 2022) when my friend's father - who I had met first and known for several years - passed away from cancer. My friend was the spitting image of his dad; everything from his appearance, to the way he dressed, spoke, and all of his mannerisms were the perfect replica of his father. It often made it feel like his dad was still in the room, and many of the other regulars at our pub often pointed it out. My friend often couldn't see it, and he never noticed that some of the phrases, or even the way his voice would naturally rise and fall in certain sentences, was the exact same as his father.

It was never easy to talk about his dad as losing him was something he never recovered from, but I wrote this song for my friend and hoped that it would offer him some comfort; that although he didn't believe in God and Heaven like I do, he still wouldn't deny himself of the fact that his dad was still very much present and 'alive' and with him. I was always too hesitant to share this song with him over fear of upsetting him or bringing up his grief. But unfortunately, he passed away three days ago, and I never got to share this with him.

There's still so many things that I still feel like I have to tell him, and there's no way he can be gone when I have so much left unsaid. How could he have left the way he did and not have any idea how much he would be missed? How tremendously he mattered? How it would be something I'll never recover from?

I don't know if I'll ever find the right words to say how this feels because I don't know if I will truly ever be able to come to terms with what happened. And I'll never be able to tell him how special it is that in this entire lifetime of infinite existence, I got to call him my friend - out of every living thing. But he was special. And he was here. And he mattered. And he was in my existence. And that is a truth no one can ever take away.

Peace, perfect peace, Andy. ♡ 

18/05/2024.