5 Works that taught Me How to Stay in the In-Between
A song that feels like a memory dissolving in real time. The layered vocals in the outro, “I, I, I know you gotta leave”, echo like a goodbye you didn’t want to hear but needed to. It’s not just a heartbreak; it’s the moment before acceptance.

Frank calls himself “not brave,” “not a god,” “not a husband.” The song is a meditation on identity, existential drift, and the refusal to settle. It’s not a declaration, it’s a confession. A song that lives in the space between who you are and who you might be.
This song is slow unraveling. “I care for you still and I will forever” is whispered like a secret. The stripped-down production leaves space for silence, for breath. It taught me that intimacy doesn’t need to be loud, and endings don’t need to final.
“I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me.” That line lives in my chest. The song is about the unreliability of memory, the ache of nostalgia, and the way love can feel both real and imagined. It’s not about what happened, it’s about what could’ve.
“I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me.” That line lives in my chest. The song is about the unreliability of memory, the ache of nostalgia, and the way love can feel both real and imagined. It’s not about what happened, it’s about what could’ve.
