Music is my Forte.

I wrote this asking someone to hold off leaving until I'd caught up to where they already were.

Written the week everything felt like it was due at once.

An oddly tender song about the one plant I've actually managed to keep alive.

Trying to name a feeling before it passes.

Learning to enjoy being alone instead of just tolerating it.

For the nights that don't lead anywhere, and finally not minding that.

A check-in with myself, written faster than I usually let myself write.

A shrug of a song for the years that don't go the way I planned.

Two versions of the same idea — on the parts of me that didn't change even after everything else did.

Realizing halfway through something that I already knew how it would end.

Chasing a feeling I half-remember, in someone who isn't the one who gave it to me.

Written at 3am about the person keeping me up.

A rebellious statement against the standard of music — fourteen songs about consumer greed, pizza, and country music instead of breakups.

Watching someone become who they were always going to be, from the outside.

Falling for someone before I'd figured out what I actually wanted.

The songs I write when there's no one else around to say it to.

Ten songs about life after graduation, when everyone else seems to have a plan and you're still working on finding yourself.

A little sympathy for the kid I used to be, who didn't know what was coming.

Named for the room where most of these songs actually got written.

Five songs about leaving places — and people.

Half a goodbye, half a hope it isn't permanent.

Three songs from the hinge point where my sound started to sound like mine.

Overthinking a conversation that already ended.

The most straightforward thing I'd admitted in a song up to that point.

One question, asked a hundred different ways across four minutes.

Hearing my own life secondhand from people who weren't there.

The first song I ever put out — recorded in a bedroom, meant for no one in particular.