When Paramore appeared on NPR Music’s Tiny Desk Concert, they performed three songs in the following order: “Hard Times,” “26,” and “Fake Happy”. After performing “Hard Times,” Hayley Williams says to the crowd, “Um, by the way, sing, if you want, and dance?” before launching into one of the saddest songs of the album.
Whenever people in my life turn 26, I send them a link to “26” by Paramore and follow it up with “sry this is, like, the saddest song ever written, happy bday tho!”
Same energy!
Off Paramore’s fifth album, After Laughter, “26” stands out as one of the slower and more obviously melancholic songs on a record that’s generally upbeat. Hayley Williams describes the song as a message to her younger self, and the lyrics are straightforward enough: “Hold on to hope if you got it / Don't let it go for nobody / They say that dreaming is free / But I wouldn't care what it cost me.”
I’ve always had a hard time internalizing the idea that your twenties are a decade for experimentation, for trying things out and messing up. There’s flexibility to shift goals, do new things, and be a little careless.
But every time this is told to me, I can’t help but hear the sound of a ticking clock in the background. Eventually, probably when you age into the next decade, you’re supposed to have your shit together. Which means, with each year of your twenties that passes, it’s meant to be a step closer to finding your footing.
With this outlook, I am often unsettled by this notion of trying things out. What if it’s a waste of time? And so, I opt out. “26” reflects on this feeling of being rooted, but in a way that limits growth—”You got me tied up, but I stay close to the window / And I talk to myself about the places that I used to go.”
And what happens when you’re somehow rooted, but also can’t seem to find your footing at the same time? Well, to me, it feels like falling.
The bridge of the song goes: “Reality will break your heart / Survival will not be the hardest part / It's keeping all your hopes alive / When all the rest of you has died / So let it break your heart.”
The feeling of hopelessness and unchecked apathy is debilitating. A slow descent into nothing. There is no rock bottom—rather, the feeling of constant falling is almost worse than hitting the ground.
To stop this descent means to remember how fresh air feels. To not feel haunted by the idea of an unknown future, but to believe in the freedom of one.
In an essay for PAPER Magazine, Hayley Williams reflects on this album: “This is what I call ‘Life with AL’—short for After Laughter. It's a little dumb, but it helps me mark this time as a significant turning point in my life. Like a Saturn return. I'm noticing similar movement in my friends' lives too. More presence and awareness. More tenderness. I'm alive to both pain and joy now.”
To have appreciation for the good, you have to experience the bad. Only after feeling hopelessness and all that comes with it—the loss of creativity, the guilt of letting relationships drift apart—can you really cherish what it means to believe in something again.
As we grow older, dreaming becomes synonymous with naivety. Earnesty is frowned upon! But dreaming gets us through the night and through the day.
To quote another Paramore song, “Last Hope,” the lyrics go: “Every night I try my best to dream / Tomorrow makes it better / Then I wake up to the cold reality / And not a thing has changed / But it will happen.”
Today, I’m 26.
And as the gesture goes, I’ll send the song “26” by Paramore to myself. I’ll think about the things that make me feel excited, ideas and thoughts and ambitions that have stayed and grown with me. I’ll think about passion.
I’ll think about the passage of time and the fragility of life and take a deep breath.
I’ll think about joy. And I’ll hold it very close to my heart.
Some recs:
After Laughter, Paramore
“Hayley Williams on Mental Health: 'I Didn't Laugh For a Long Time'” (PAPER Magazine)
Thank you for reading! This was sooooo hard to write. To quote yet another song, this time by Lorde: “All the glamour and the trauma / And the f*ckin' melodrama.” Happy Virgo season.
You can read my previous post here: August Wrapped.
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