I love Frank Ocean, more than you might be able to understand. He can verbalize so many emotions that I didn’t even know that I had. While listening to his music, part of me feels as though I am listening to my inner monologue, singing my sadness back to me. And part of me resides in that sadness and wonders whether my experiences are just so ordinary, so cliché that some random man named Frank who I don’t even know could make me feel like he is a part of me. Running through my blood and bones. Intruding, extracting the grooves of my mind so meticulously that he can chew and spit out exactly how I’m feeling, even before I can. Frank, quite frankly, hits the nail on the head every single time.
However, upon listening to “Self Control” by my friend Frank, I felt a deep anger rise inside of me. Several things piss me off about this song, so many things that I could almost write a full 854-word essay about it.
The line “Keep a place for me, for me/ I’ll sleep between y’all, it’s nothing” always itched the unreachable corners of my brain(in the worst way). I mean, sure, hypothetically you CAN love someone enough to see them loving another and shrug your shoulders, only inserting yourself into the memories you share together(perhaps trying to live vicariously through social media posts, or maybe checking in every once in a while). But why would you allow yourself to be this vulnerable? Isn’t it embarrassing? I could never allow my(current)self to run through this mundane, melancholy pattern. Once you are rejected, you are rejected. End of story.
Vulnerability is weak. Crying over spilled milk is utterly pointless.
You should never allow someone to know that you are missing them, and that’s rule number 1.
Also, isn’t it just slightly concerning that Frank is talking about SLEEPING between his ex-lover and their new lover? He is quite literally saying “Hey! Leave some space for me, I’m on the way. I’ll never let you forget about me.” This seems… Pushy, desperate, infatuated, in love, which I guess I can get behind, kind of. But Frank, as I said before, we can’t let ourselves show them that we miss them and that we would be totally okay with being a second-hand thought. Because we wouldn’t be okay with that. My friend Frank is in denial, because who would think that this is an ideal way to live?
Rule number 2, just move on. Stop being creepy, Frank. Let it go.
“Wish we’d grown up on the same advice/And our time was right.” To be fair to Frank, this is a valid and understandable thing to wish for. Wishing that two people had grown up together, in similar circumstances so that they can better understand each other is a… Sweet concept (for a lack of better term). Yearning to be so close to someone, to the point of wishing to give up your childhood to live someone else’s, no matter how bad or good it was, is a beautiful concept. Sharing youth is vulnerable, palatable, like candy. Our background does shape us, and growing up with different ideologies, resulting in different values and(potentially) different levels of maturity could ultimately lead to the demise of a relationship. “And our time was right,” completely seals that conclusion, in a sound, short package. With a bow on top.
I wished that I grew up on the same advice as some others who entered, then exited my life. Maybe things would have been different, or things would have worked. Maybe if people weren’t so different, if we could all be so similar, growing up under the same rules, the world could be a better place.
But there is no time for reminiscing. Rule number 3.
I hate that part of me can(unfortunately)understand the line that I hate the most about this song: “Keep a place for me/I’ll sleep between y’all its nothing.” Knowing someone doesn’t want you, and wanting them all the more, to the point where you are willing to sleep between them and their new lover is… More than painful. Words cannot describe how hard that can be.
I hate anything romantic. Especially tragically-romantic songs written by Frank, the only man who can perfectly replicate my inner-conscious every time without fail. Music has a way of bringing back pieces of painful memories that you did almost everything to forget. “Now and then you miss it, sounds make you cry/Some nights you dance with tears in your eyes.” They provoke hurtful memories that have no business crashing through and destructing your mind, like 40-foot waves engulfing a sandy shore. The Ocean (no pun intended) does as it wishes, and sometimes, you just need to accept that and roll with what it throws at you.
Rule number 4: never EVER forgive Frank Ocean for writing “Self Control.”