by Lizzie DePriest



It was a frigid December and I was sitting in a tree thinking I was unreachable, this was incorrect. Very incorrect.

Listen to the EP while reading the text.

A Remote Cabin

Every year my best friend and I go to a remote cabin in the middle of freakin’ no where. It’s the best. There is no one there. There is nothing there. Yes, there is food. And there is water. Land and wildlife. Barely any phone service. We both agree that sometimes you simply have to be gone. Disappear, it’s nice, try it…..

That could be the depression talking though. This cabin is our hideaway. We breathe. We sleep again. And we eat again. It’s wonderful. This was our third time to go to Nowhere, USA (I have a camo ball cap of the only establishment within 100 miles to prove it).

It was December, everything was dead and we were alive. We both agree that the cabin feels as if we cannot be reached/touched/engaged by the things that haunt us back home, what a relief.

The Tree

This particular evening I went into a tree stand on the property to watch the wildlife roll in for their evening meal. As I was sitting in the tree oblivious to the sinkhole coming my way I was calm and relaxed, enjoying the freezing weather biting away at any feeling in my extremities and contemplating what hypothermia would offer a person.

BBBBZZZZZZZ. My phone which somehow still had signal interrupted the graveyard quiet game. I was winning. Any previous notion that I was far away from my hometown haunting fell in that sinkhole which finally found me. Turns out in this day you are truly only ever one bar away from a connection (thanks to US Cellulars bizarre network coverage).

I read the message stating that a loved one who had been diagnosed with cancer had died. And there it was. Simple. Words on a backlit screen, nothing more. The news brought my mind back from the wilderness that it had retrieved to. And there I was in the tree making bets with the weather. And the air was thick. I slid down the sinkhole with my expectations of isolation.

Always

For the next 6 months I had terrible nightmares in which I continually witnessed this loved one in the most stomach mangling situations. We were trapped 6 feet under the heavy black consciousness together every night. Always. Maybe that was heavier than I meant for it to be.

I always want to write my music from a place of honesty. My lyrics to have been experiences, not simply a story or idea. I want my music to be a distinct reflexion of what my heart was feeling and my mind was screaming. But I would not say that I am inspired to write these kinds of songs. I am simply coping better. I’m sure you do too. Cope better. Some people think that artists have inspirations for everything. I’m sure some do. But I think most are like me, just exploding in a socially acceptable/contributing fashion. We’re actually just making it.

Come Again

The song “From Here” (Come Again EP) is a reflexion of this delusion that we can never truly escape whatever it is that we’re running from. A hope that one day we will escape it, what that would feel and seem like.

Likewise, the song “Flys” (Self Talk Album) is about the coping of the death of my loved one and the haunting that carpooled with the grief. You will notice two versions of this song. Both are true. Both are representative.

Thank you for spending a bit of your time with me and these experiences. Maybe you’re running too. I hope some of my songs can resonate with you.

Themidnightessentials Themidnightessentials, Category: Artist, Albums: Self Talk, Honest, Singles: Come Again, Themidnightessentials – EP, Top Tracks: From Here, Am I Too Late, Reflexion, The Sky, Coming Down, Biography: theMidNightEssentials is the known stage name of solo artist Lizzie DePriest.

From Here

Flys (Acoustic)

Flys



EP

Muskogee, Oklahoma, Tulsa, Oklahoma City, Rogers, Fayetteville, Siloam Springs

Acoustic, Alternative, Indie, Singer-Songwriter, Emo



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