Attachment and detachment are life and death these days. Sometimes you have to pretend some things are not happening or you run the risk of sinking so low into the actual reality of the moment that there would be no rising from the muck again. At the same time, how much can we actually detach without losing sight of the real hurt and pain that is necessary to make this life worth living, that illuminates how sweet the happier moments can be?
I’m glued to the thoughts in my mind (mind)
They pester like a hawk in the sky
I am glued to the love in you (in you)
It swallows me whole, you’re hard to let go
That conundrum is at the heart of Melanie Martinez‘s brilliant ‘Glued’, which posits the idea of a love that is kept at a distance, a chemistry that is kept at bay, and the question of whether or not to recklessly give in to it entirely or keep safely away. A heart that is hidden cannot as easily be hurt.
Oh, that’s not what I wanna do (oh, no)
Perfectly attached like a noodle in the soup (huh?)
You’re good with the X-Y-Z (Y-Z)
I’m good with the A-B-C
And D-E-F-G, H-I-J-K, baby
We all have our strong suits, built differently
Different experience, different needs
I know we can’t die at the same time (oh, so sad), but please?
I don’t wanna think about the morbid parts of life no more?
I’m tryin’ just to focus on the things that hold me so damn close
I’m sticky, sticky, stuck and solidly sealed up to this reality
I’m seein’ not what I wish to be achieving, the old idea of me is
Glued up, sometimes it’s too much
I’m fucked up and clueless (clueless)
I’m stuck in the vortex, stuck in the vortex
Glue-less, life would be borin’
Empty but no hurting (hurting)
Is it necessary? Detachment is scary
My own romantic history is a testament to giving in to love at all turns, from the earliest infatuations to the lifelong bonds, and where I’ve made a complete fool of myself and risked being completely desperate and uncool are precisely the points of which I am still most proud. When I felt something for someone, I said it, I proclaimed it, I shouted it from the highest mountaintop because it was genuine and honest and brutal and real. Of course it never worked out, because the rules of romance require all those silly games of coquettish pull-back and hysterical hesitancy to the point where we haven’t much evolved from the playground taunting that boys and girls used to pretend they weren’t at all interested in someone.
When my petty feet start to sway (sway)
You better turn around the other way (walk away)
When the doubt starts creepin’ in (oh, no)
It’s hard to let go of old instinctual
Patterns that I picked up from my environment since a baby
Cut the negative self-talk and cut out my procrastination
Being sticky stuck, glue those old habits shut
Paste me to a new way of being, somethin’ to breathe new life in me again
There is something scary and brave and soul-rending about giving yourself up so easily and so soon in a relationship. I’ve always done it, and rarely has it worked to my advantage, but I never stopped doing it, because being real is the only thing I want to be. When I met Andy, I even attempted to play by the rules, our first night ending with my laughably-elusive non-promise of, “I’ll probably never see you again but here’s my number” only to discover later that Andy didn’t like games either.
Glued up, sometimes it’s too much
I’m fucked up and clueless (clueless)
Stuck in the vortex, stuck in the vortex
Glue-less, and life would be boring
Empty but no hurtin’ (hurtin’, no hurtin’)
Is it necessary? Detachment is scary
