We Don’t Know Us cover art by Jason Elijah

Unaware

“Unaware” moves through the ache of seeing too late—of realizing that closeness was real, but so was blindness. It carries the sorrow of a connection that reached deeply, only to collapse under truths neither person was fully ready to face.

Lyrics

you told her so many things you told her all the things that she wanted to know just the words that worked so you got your hands into her you got so deep into her you saw things you didn't want to know you found out some things in yourself you didn't want to know in her you ran around you ran around looking for something else you never saw what was sitting right there you were unaware so, so unaware of her each time you tried to figure out why each time you tried I... I was so blind

This song feels almost forensic at first. It watches carefully. It notices the right words being offered, the emotional entry, the moment someone reached deeply into another person without understanding what they were really touching. But beneath that observation is heartbreak.

What gives “Unaware” its depth is that it does not stay in blame. The song turns. The other person may have been unaware, but the final line opens a harder truth: blindness was shared. That shift makes the song feel less like accusation and more like mournful awakening.

There is something devastating in the idea that love can fail not because it wasn’t real, but because the self was not ready to be seen. The song leaves us in that recognition. Not in rage. Not in triumph. Just in the fragile, sacred ache of finally seeing what was there.

← back to album: We Don’t Know Us

← Domestic

Out She Comes →