@spotligh.t6long time , no see      ️                                 [ dated 191113 ]// original so

@spotligh.t6long time , no see      ️                                 [ dated 191113 ]// original song // male voice reference // ————————————————————Sweet love, sweet love, trapped in your loveI’ve opened up unsure I can trustMy heart and I were buried in dustFree me, free usYou’re all I need when I’m holding you tightIf you walk away I will suffer tonightHe knows why he picked the song. He’s not so dense to pretend it’s anything but painfully, viscerally resonant in his very existence. And in the safe space of a ten-person voice class with a trusted, talented professor, he is nothing if not comfortable baring his soul through a song. Here, in a sound-proofed recording booth, rented out by campus administrators, taking turns with mentor and peers alike, he is respected, an equal, an artist. Here, there are no television cameras, no popstar CEOs, no plastic sheen teeny boppers. Here, there are artists and there is music and there is nowhere for his emotions to escape except out of his mouth and into the microphone in front of him.What he doesn’t know is what prompts him to record it, except for the simple fact that he wants to look back at it, that he wants to share this moment with the people he trusts and loves. He can count those people on one hand. And even those select few have rarely seen him so raw, so vulnerable - that is, until the past several weeks, which he spent under a suffocating cloud of impenetrable, unreasonable misery. He was not himself, is still not entirely returned to himself; but he’s found music again, somehow, dug it up from under the crushing rubble of catastrophe he could still feel pressing down on his chest when he stayed up too late into the night. I found a man I can trustAnd boy, I believe in usI am terrified to love for the first timeCan’t you see that I’m bound in chains?I finally found my wayI am bound to you, I am bound to youHe cannot sing this song without succumbing to his own emotions, because the lyrics feel like they may have been pulled directly out of his brain and heart and soul and slapped onto a melody as haunting and intimidating as he feels. Months of practice with Sungho of the language now less foreign to his tongue make it that much easier to get frighteningly lost in the song’s meaning, where he will stay long after he’s done singing. The high notes are not what’s difficult. What’s difficult is getting them out past the lump in his chest forming from the truthful imagery spilling from his vocal chords.So much, so young, I faced on my ownWalls I built up, became my homeI’m strong and I’m sure there’s a fire in usSweet love, so pureI catch my breath with just one beating heartAnd I brace myself, please, don’t tear this apartHe didn’t practice these words with Sungho at home, instead instilling the help of one of his classmates, determined to keep the cover a surprise until it was time for his invited showcase at the end of the semester. But the recording playing back at him from his phone makes his heart ache all over again, and he is confident in the chance it may never sound as tender and open from a small school stage over a questionable sound system to an audience who will be barely attentive at best. This is a better way to deliver the surprise.I found a man I can trustAnd boy, I believe in usI am terrified to love for the first timeCan’t you see that I’m bound in chains?I finally found my wayI am bound to you, I am bound to you But as the clips upload to his Instagram, his hands are shaking. The trembling embarrasses him, somehow, far more than having to fight back tears mid-song does. He has never, ever in his life been timid in the face of social media, has never feared spreading his face or his voice across digital platforms. He is still not dense; he knows why the thought of putting his heart on the internet frightens him. That is not to say he’d admit his fear, silently or out loud, to himself or to anyone else. But he is willing to admit the cause of it, is quick in acknowledging that his spine-chilling terror has everything to do with a cruelly hasty, painfully inevitable elimination. It is not scrutiny he fears, nor is it ridicule. It is reliving the same humiliating ending of a dream, over and over again, every time he so much as opens his mouth to sing.Suddenly the moment’s hereI embrace my fearsAll that I have been carrying all these yearsDo I risk it all?Come this far just to fall, fall This is how he must overcome it. He must learn how to take back the control of his voice, his music, his image, his talent, his heart and soul and will to live. That’s what it is that he still struggles to keep a grasp on, like vapor swirling around him and between his fingers and just out of his reach: a will to keep going. This helps ground it, solidify it, even if it is only for a few short minutes. This is his platform and his voice and his heart and soul. With the ending of one dream might come the beginning of another, and eventually, maybe, someday, he might decide maybe he didn’t leave anything at all on that stage except for a petty, rotten vengeance he’d let eat away at his core. For now, he sings. Like he was born to do.I can trustAnd boy, I believe in usI am terrified to love for the first timeCan’t you see that I’m bound in chains?And finally found my wayI am bound to you I amI am I’m bound to you Upload complete ! -- source link

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