I wrote “Swollen Eyes” for the kind of night that doesn’t get talked about much.
Not the breakthrough.
Not the bounce back.
But the space right before that
when it’s just you, the silence, and a storm no one else sees.
This song doesn’t promise resolution.
It doesn’t hand out a silver lining.
It just lets the pain breathe.
Sometimes you cry so hard, the next day shows it on your face.
You may not speak on it.
You may not want anyone to ask.
But your eyes tell the story.
That you held something heavy.
That you survived something deep.
“Swollen Eyes” is for that space.
The space where nothing is fixed… but you’re still here.
Where there’s no big moment just quiet endurance.
The final line of the song says:
“Maybe it’s not alright yet… but it will be.”
That’s not a motivational quote.
It’s a fragile truth.
One you say to yourself when you don’t know how… but still hope it’s true.
If you’ve ever known the kind of heartbreak that floods you so hard you wonder if your body can even hold it all… the kind of pain that makes your head pulse and your chest shake… but somehow, you made it through the night this is for you. The moon saw it. The darkness held you. And even if no one else knew what you carried, the sunrise did. Swollen Eyes is the sound of surviving something that almost drowned you, and waking up anyway.
***Artist Note:
Another song born out of pain. 💔
But not just pain- truth.
The kind you don’t dress up.
The kind you don’t rush through.
The kind that stays with you until it teaches you something about yourself you never knew…
like the fact that you can break and still be breathing.
Swollen Eyes isn’t about moving on.
It’s about making it through.
It’s not victory music. It’s survival sound.
It doesn’t ask to be fixed. It just asks to be felt.
And in that way, yeah
another song was born out of pain.
But also out of presence. Out of witnessing.
And that’s what turns pain into something else entirely.
Not a scar. Not a wound.
But a song.
