it's just a casual story of a boy meets a girl. do you remember meeting the love of your life? the point where your eyes set forth into hers, the point where you'd unintentionally slip the words,''beautiful, who's she?'', the point when you feel the moment stops still, the point when you suddenly have the urge of showing yourself that you are there, watching her, waiting for her to acknowledge you, waiting for her to reply your eyes. that's the moment when you actually want to have your existence recognized and known. by her. that's the sole purpose of the reason you're here after all.
let's just say, there is a boy. he's just a normal boy, living a normal life, dreaming a normal dream, and having a normal feeling inside. there's this moment, then, when he's rushing through the wave of people on the sidewalk, he catches a glimpse of a dazzling countenance, one he never sees before, one leaving a different impression on him. he falls in love at the first sight. it's more than a rushing of endorphin from his hormonal system. it's more than lust over the face or the posture. it leaves him a far too vivid impression on him. her thin smile over the face and the warmth he feels toward it. her hair sweeping through her shoulders and those swing he falls into it. it is not a simple feeling for him.
what would it take to let her know? what do i need to do? his heart is pouncing, his mind pondering, it seems so stupid and silly; yet again, he still stands there staring. these several seconds feel the longest and time seems stop and he doesn't mind. spacing out on the sidewalk, his shoulder grazes people who pass by, constantly waking him up from his thought, constantly sending him to the reality. is it okay to simply walk and greet her? doesn't it rude to ask her name so suddenly? or should i introduce myself first? will our conversation continue that way? so many questions, so many thinking. he knows he thinks too much, but well, "what else can I do?" or so he asks himself.
seems that she's there waiting for the bus. ''come on, stupid, how much longer do you need to muster courage?'', he impatiently says to himself. it's a war within. his consciousness and subconsciousness are in conflict. it's between what's good to do and what's right to do. pretending to know her from somewhere or someone and greet her out of the blue would be good. that way you can start to talk to her. but that'll be wrong, definitely wrong. our closeness will be built upon lies and deceit, he doesn't want that. what will she think then? or should he just introduce himself and try being friends as two normal strangers first? "that sounds right", he thought; but no good. it's not freaking fine. he cannot answer anything when she asks why. it won't be a question he can simply answer with "I fall for you from the first time". no, that's too cliche, too ordinary, too romantic too soon.
it is not an easy situation, he knows that. he's not that bright, he knows that too. what does it take to be man enough and face her, tell her, confess to her? he doesn't know. balancing the scale of bravery and modesty is hard enough, and a little spice of sincerity should be put accordingly. and he doesn't know how yet. he blames himself for thinking too much. his head is just full of too many variables and in the end, he doesn't get to try the experiment. but that too, is not everything. there's still time, perhaps. perhaps, this is one in a lifetime. either one, this swing of heart, this trembling, this erudition, it's not a waste of time. he ought to learn, he will. life is not just result. if so, why do we have to move forward anyway? journey is where everything takes place. feelings, judgment, considerations, they are stashed inside and processed. it is where this thing called heart molded, transformed, and bettered.
so in the end, he doesn't even get a name. not even a chance to speak to her. but it's all right. there he is, standing where she was standing waiting for the bus. her presence, her trace, as if he could feel it. he stands there, closing his eyes, mustering whatever it is he needs next time, if there's another chance. yes, when another chance arises, he will do it. he knows, it doesn't matter the result. when a thing matters, it matters. it is right here, it is everywhere. he'll tell her, he will. and as he thinks about it, he opens his eyes, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping through his hairs, of the same breath she breathe upon
Circadian Eyes is a great instrumental artist, one of the best in my feeling. Swing Set is their third song from their second extended play (EP).
