Autumn’s Music Column
The 1975, Love, and other crimes
Image Courtesy of Wallpaperuse
Have you ever loved someone so much that you destroyed yourself in the pursuit of them?
That is to love someone more than you love yourself. What a wreck.
12 years ago, when The 1975 uploaded the music video for their then-new song, “Robbers,” I was nine. I watched it for the first time at 13 — precocious and perplexed, but deeply enthralled.
Having unsupervised internet access at a young age, like many of us, led to oversharing in comment sections and niche interests. For me, one of those interests was The 1975, undoubtedly encouraged by Tumblr's internet culture at the time.
“Robbers,” as Matty Healy of The 1975 put it, “is a love song. An escape story where love is the highest law and conquers all against the odds. The type of relationship all humans long for. All or nothing. This video is about when love makes two people feel they are the center of the universe.”
The thing was, I watched the music video at 13, but I didn’t actually see it until last year. She sat on my worn-out couch in my sophomore-year apartment. When an obviously catastrophic relationship left me in smithereens in the dark of my junior-year bedroom, she was the only person I had to reach out to.
From the moment she smiled, I knew we were doomed. That I’d end up burnt. But I just couldn’t help myself. Ironically enough, it was as if love had taken over me. What was once lust at first sight turned into a love that had me ruining my entire life.
Image Courtesy of Pexels
Once the relationship started, it was like a premeditated forest fire. I watched it unravel in front of me—she hurts me; I apologize for her. I hurt her; she shuts me out. Crack a joke to avoid the impending downfall of our relationship. Everything is fine. Is it? Am I lying?
As the months went by, I thought little of our parasitic relationship. I was in love, and it was a good thing, wasn’t it? I didn’t care that she consumed all my time. Days I should've spent studying for my classes were replaced by arguments and conversations begging for change that never came.
I saw myself falling deeper and deeper into a dark, bottomless hole, but I had no idea why I entered or how I could possibly leave.
See, the thing about being at the center of the universe is that there truly is no center. Space itself expands uniformly in every direction. So, every location looks like the center from its own perspective. It’s simply an illusion of love blinding you from every direction. The only way to free yourself from this illusion is to go outside of the universe, or in this case, leave the relationship.
But that’s easier said than done. After all, you’ve already broken up four times. What’s one more fight? Just keep hitting rock bottom. Say something you’ve been meaning to say for months. Retreat into yourself.
There comes a point where the heist goes dreadfully wrong, though. Your family repeatedly asks where you’ve been. “You never hang out with us anymore,” your best friend says. There’s blood on her shirt. She’s an embarrassing heap of a mess, but she’s the center of the universe, right? So, all you can say is, “You look so cool.”
Image via Anti Pop Punk Pop Punk Club on Facebook
But as it turns out, you can only run on empty for so long. There comes a point when you look in the mirror, and you have no idea who is gazing back. You realize you’ve been wearing her clothes for so long that you’ve forgotten how your favorite shirt feels against your skin.
An all-consuming relationship that knows no bounds. It feels good to be alive, finally.
After all, this is what you wanted. To be robbers together.
Strike out,
Writer: Autumn Johnstone
Editor: Francesca Jaques
Autumn Johnstone is a junior studying journalism and art and a writer for Strike Magazine. When they're not writing, you can find them enjoying a cup of coffee at a nearby café or thrifting for vinyl records. Their work has also been published in Rowdy Magazine, Her Campus UFL, The Independent Florida Alligator, and more.
