I don’t write love songs very comfortably these days.
The first song I ever wrote was called The Boy of My Dreams. I was six. So it’s not that love songs are unfamiliar to me — they’ve always been there in some form. But now… they don’t quite sit the same.
Experience changes you. It changes what you trust, what you question, what you’re willing to reveal. And after my experiences, it’s left me feeling very reluctant when it comes to writing about love.
And yet — in the studio recently, something shifted.
Among the tracks we recorded, there are songs I genuinely think are lovely. These are songs that feel open and honest, and soft in a way I seldom allow myself to be these days.
Some of them speak to things that really matter to me. Songs like Leave, which come from a place of personal empowerment. Because that’s the lens I see the world through — empowerment over oppression, inclusion over division, truth over performance.
I believe in people. I believe most of us are trying, in our own way, to come from love.
And I believe being real means we don’t just show the light — we integrate the shadow too.
That’s where my music comes from.
But this is different…
Because one of the songs I’ve recorded… is a love song. (Gasp)
And sharing it feels incredibly vulnerable.
It’s not even because I haven’t been open before — I really have. I’ve shared a lot. (Over shared a lot too!) But this feels like a different kind of exposure. A quieter one. A more intimate one.
No one has heard this song yet. No one.
(Aside from Saul, who helped me bring it to life in the studio.)
But soon, I’ll be releasing it.
It feels tender. It feels real. And it feels like letting people see a side of me that’s been kept just out of reach.
So yes — there’s vulnerability here.
But there’s also something beautiful in that.
I hope, when you hear it, you feel it too.
As per… stay brave, stay powerful, and stay you.
And stay tuned.