What Happens When Love Isn't the Problem

Most love songs are about losing someone.

This one is about something harder than that.

One thing I always want people to know about my songwriting — I write from empathy as much as I write from experience. Like A Fire isn't my story. But it is a true story. And I believe there is just as much honesty in writing about the human condition as there is in writing about your own life. Maybe more. Because when you remove yourself from the equation what's left is something that belongs to everyone.

That's the story I'm always chasing. And that's where Like A Fire came from.

Like A Fire started as a question I couldn't shake — what happens to two people who genuinely love each other, who haven't done anything wrong, who look perfectly fine from the outside — and yet somehow one of them is lying awake at night feeling completely invisible?

That's not a breakup song. That's something quieter and more complicated than that. And honestly? It's the kind of hurt that's hardest to talk about because you can't point at anything and say that's the problem. The love is real. The commitment is real. And somehow that makes it hurt more not less.

What surprised me writing this song is that it stopped being just one person's story.

The moment the male voice steps in and says "You miss feeling like a fire? Hell... so do I" — everything shifts. Because suddenly you realize he's been feeling the exact same thing from the other side. He misses that fire too. He wonders if the person he loves still sees him the way they used to. He's been strong for so long he forgot what breaking feels like.

Neither one of them is the villain. Neither one of them stopped loving the other. They just somehow — quietly, slowly, without noticing — stopped seeing each other.

And that's the question Like A Fire never quite answers. Did they lose themselves?

Or did they lose each other? Or both?

"What scares me is I don't know if you're talking about us — or if you're talking about yourself."

That line is the center of the whole song. Because that's the conversation most couples never have. Not because they don't love each other. But because the answer is terrifying either way.

If it's us — we can fight for that.But if one of us has gone missing...

The song doesn't tell you what happens next. Because real life doesn't either. What it does is hold up a mirror to something a lot of people feel but don't have words for yet. Like A Fire is available now. If it sounds like something you've been living — you're not alone. And neither are they.