There’s a part in one of my favourite Troye Sivan songs that goes:
I can’t rewind,
can’t help but feel I’ve lost what’s mine.
There’s so much history in these streets,
and mama’s good eats,
and Wonder on repeat;
there’s so much history in my head,
the people I’ve left,
the ones that I’ve kept.”
When I was away at Penn, I kept imagining this road, in the neighbourhood I’ve spent almost 20 years in. I always imagined my house and the smell of my mum’s cooking. I would think about the friends I still have here and the friends I… will remember. I would sulk about the birthdays and selfies and jokes I missed out on, feeling like I was less a part of the things I loved. And Troye’s Suburbia always clutches onto the spot in my heart that holds these thoughts and images.
Every time I drive down this road I’m always content, thinking oh my god, I live here, this is mine, this is home, I’m home.
His chorus so beautifully ends with:
“Could be playing hide and seek from home,
can’t replace my blood,
yeah, it seems I’m never letting go
of suburbia.” ❤️