The worrying kind

Let’s first rewind to Mello 2007 and who got 3rd place (read: Mr. I-won-Eurovision-2015-but-my-name-is-too-hard-to-type-with-only-an-English-keyboard): There’s someone at uni whose first name is actually Cara Mia, written as one word. I don’t think this person has heard of either the song or the artist, which is a good thing because knowing your name is a song title would be one of the most annoying things around. Granted it’s not fun either when your name is the same word as a one-cent piece or a character in Big Bang Theory, but moving on…

People on the said song’s YouTube page keep posting that they don’t remember the winning entry that went to represent Sweden that year. I can’t say that since I listened to “The Worrying Kind” first. All I really remembered at first was just a shirtless guy and a swirly black/white background, but then I re-listened to it recently and stuff all came flooding back. Back when I first heard the song off the 2007 recap it didn’t make much sense. What’s going on with the person asking to not call for first aid, the fire brigade, or the local police? At the time I just saw the character as a lazy dreamer (with the potential of a superman)

And then the meltdowns came. Everything turned more disorganized (because liquids have higher entropy than solids, thanks chem department), which was already bad with most-likely-ADHD-but-I’ll-never-know, and most-likely-depression-but-I’ll-never-know (Thanks social stigma). Because of all the crap going on in my head, I could see slightly more of the character Ola Salo was portraying. Instead of just the lazy dreamer, the character’s probably got depression major and trying to shake it off with exercise or comedy. Usually it works to keep them numb and distracted and keep the pain out of their head, and that’s all people usually see on camera or on their screen. But inside they’re still messed up and Photoshop only hits the outside where they’re braver. When they say they’re okay isn’t always what they believe. When a meltdown hits and they turn into a zombie with a glassy stare full of panic, first aid, the fire department, or the police aren’t going to help if the problem is internal. What they really need is someone to talk to. Or maybe the person doesn’t have to even talk. They just need someone to be with them and be there for them. Like Maraaya, maybe.

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2 comments on “The worrying kind

  1. […] for days trying to come up with something that isn’t ripped off from Tumblr or just another “here’s a song and here’s my feelings about it” […]

  2. […] a walk, anything to get my symps to stop firing as much (or at least inappropriately) and turn into the worrying kind. And there might be people around saying that it’s a bad idea, but nowhere in the song does it […]

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