The Fray

I've lately been enamored with the song "You Found Me" by the Fray. It angered me and broke my heart, and I love it. The raw, child-like emotion of the song is just so.....mmm. Anyway, after hearing it over and over and being swept away emotionally by this song, I've written about it. I want to eventually focus my ideas and write a song capturing the emotions and thoughts in response.

If you haven't heard it, stop what you are doing and go to http://blog.thefray.net/us/blog and listen to it. He is singing to God, and he is hurt and angry. So here is my take on what God might say in response to this song...


I could see the desperate pain in your eyes when you saw me and it broke my heart to see you hurting.

I wrote you page after page after page of love letters, stained with my tears and sealed with my blood. Then you took them, bound them in gold and put them on your table to collect dust. Have you ever read a word of my desperate cries for your heart?

You cry over a loss, you say your love is the only one who knew who you are, who you aren’t and who you want to be, but it is I you truly ache for. I feel your every breath, see your every wound and know exactly what will heal them. I give you air to cry out against me and you wish for your lovers arms when I wait here aching for you.

I’ve been here for your each moment, how every time you turn around, the world crumbles down. You haven’t seen me because you aren’t looking for me, you are looking for answers. Give me your anger, your pain, your despair. What makes you think my purpose for you is to make you happy? What purpose does a spoiled child serve? What strength do they have? Are they satisfied or useful in anyway? Don’t you think you are better than that? I do.

Am I the friend with the big screen TV or inground pool? If all you think I am is someone who you ask things from, then you don’t really know me at all. You cry to me, but only want what I can give. I only hear your voice when you need me, and if you don’t get what you want, you say I’m not here for you. How can you use me like that? Please stop praying to my hands and start looking me in the eye!

You want a selfish, shallow love affair with me, but I want to give you everything. I gave my life, and what I want is your heart. Where’s your heart? I bled and bled for you and how can you ask me where I’ve been? How can you say I took anything from you, when it was never yours to begin with? How can you be so blind?

My oldest, dearest pen pal,

i feel as though i am a different person since i last spoke with you (in our own language of scrawled words, scribbled drawings, and random pictures from our lives). which leads me to believe that you must also be very different. i can still get lost in writing a letter and reading a good response from you. what free days we knew back when we were young, though we had little clue.

i am 'grown-up' now- or at least i have been trying to for the last several years. i think i was trying too hard-or maybe not trying hard enough. probably that one, actually. i have this yearning to be wild and free forever, which is probably why i finally picked up and came out to the west coast, as i have been wanting to do for years. i am breaking with the expectations put on me through my society, family, and culture. it sucks. but what an adventure. and i am growing up? maybe. perhaps out. actually, in, first, to find the me that is somewhere deep inside, swinging on vines, rattling her cage to be let out.

what contradictions and paradoxes i write! huh?!

i may sound a little confused, but i am learning truth, and i just want to let myself out so badly. i have kept all this creativity bottled up inside because of: fear, self-consciousness, self-criticism, fear, distrust, poor expectations, and laziness.

i must figure out a way to get out of myself- or the facade of myself that i present to the world.

i always felt you oozed creativity and vivacity, so i feel comfortable sharing this all with you. a step in the right direction perhaps.

i have started to consider how i want to raise children if i have my own or want to adopt. many of my friends are becoming moms and dads and i will surely follow suit soon. i see you have a little one you are very proud of. what is it like to be a mom and have something so precious and fragile in your care? do you have ideals of how you want to raise him? i'm sure you must- i want to know what they are. i find that terribly interesting.

i must admit, i am partially writing this letter out of a need for an outlet. i need to write, and i just noticed your address in this notebook. really, you are getting the best kind of letter - one written in loopy handwriting from a really great coffee shop. i'm even sitting on a pillow on a bench, behind a garage door. talk about ambiance.