Don’t remember me this way. I wasn’t always a shadow dancing effortlessly on the wall, following my form wherever it may go. At one time I actually led my own life. And I charged it into bedrooms and burst it out of boardroom mentality, because I was a free spirit goddammit But a few shocks to the soul later and sobering situations settling in, becoming clear–the kind that would sever even the strongest spirits–and there I was, a shadow of myself. And I didn’t recognize myself; but I didn’t need to, because I was circling around the same treads of thoughts in my head.

And I thought I’d be there doing that ad finitum. It’s common in anthemic regaling of war story routs, to later show once you’ve reclaimed yourself that you ‘always knew there was a way out’. Fuck that nostalgic bullshit. I had no idea if there was a way out. I didn’t even know it’d really happened until two years in, and then it was still a year or two later before I figured out I should surface for air every once in awhile out of the disassociation.

Shadow selves don’t know that’s what they are. Which isn’t to say the darkness wasn’t a ton of fun. Fatalism can be kickass fun, yo. All the lovers I conquered as their moods sunsetted. All the dawns I partied to and never thought of the sun as re-rising upon myself. Stellar times. But like St. Lucia here, I didn’t want this to be the way anyone remembers me. Even thinking back a year ago, I’d like to roll back the tape and revert myself out of their memories. Sure I was a freak in the sheets, but that’s also what I was: a freak. At least in how I know myself. The best St.Lucia tracks, this Bearstronaut remix included (but also Too Close and Before the Dive), are about being outside yourself looking in. The awkwardness soaking the air in the moments of pause before the surge; but those are never how you want to be remembered, waiting to be free.

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