If somebody had told the 12 year old me that I will spend a lot of time in my youth with thinking about death, I wouldn’t have believed it. But now I’m sitting next to a broken truth I’ve discovered along the way of loving an austrian popstar more than words can have the power to express. The truth about february opened my mind and eyes to so many things I was unaware of. But most importantly, it broke my heart. In fact, it shattered it into a million pieces. And no matter how hard I’ll try to put it back together, it won’t ever be the same. The music is reversible but time is not, and therefore I will always be broken. The only thing I can do is to write about it. Bring that brokenness to paper. Let the words bleed out for february and its terrifying truth.