.png)
Introduction
“MELISA” unfolds like a late-night voicemail you’re almost afraid to open. The narrator keeps looping the same phrases, as if repetition might patch the cracks between them and the person they’re addressing. That circling language becomes the emotional core: devotion fighting with the fear of being unworthy.
Verse 1
“Hey, Melisa… / Staying with you / Through it all, through it all”
The opening greeting is disarmingly casual, but the words immediately pivot to permanence. By promising to stay “through it all,” the speaker sets up a standard they’re not sure they can meet. The simplicity of the lines underscores a bigger craving for stability amid chaos.
Refrain
“Through it all, through it all / Through it all again”
The hook repeats like a mantra, each cycle adding a hint of desperation. What sounds like reassurance also reveals exhaustion—how many times can someone promise the same thing before the words fray? It captures the push-pull of commitment and burnout.
Verse 2
“All I know is something broke you and you never made it very far”
The perspective widens to acknowledge Melisa’s unseen wounds. The narrator recognizes a damage that predates their relationship, hinting at trauma and stalled growth. Empathy mixes with helplessness: they can name the pain but can’t mend it.
“If you saw the real me, you’d leave me, that’s how it always goes”
Here, self-loathing cuts into the pledge of loyalty. The speaker assumes abandonment is inevitable once their flaws surface, exposing a cyclical anxiety: I’ll stay for you, but you won’t stay for me. This tension lays bare themes of identity and self-protection.
Second Refrain
“And to my only friend / You’re my only friend”
The language tightens into singularity—Melisa isn’t just a partner, but the narrator’s sole confidant. That exclusivity amplifies the stakes: losing Melisa means losing their entire support system. It’s affection bordering on dependence.
Outro
“Hey, Melisa… / Staying with you / Through it all”
The song closes where it began, but the repetition now feels fragile, like a candle about to gutter out. The unresolved ending mirrors real-life uncertainty; promises linger in the air without proof they’ll be kept.
Conclusion
“MELISA” is less a love song than a survival chant. Quadeca wrestles with devotion, insecurity, and codependency, looping simple lines until they reveal complex fractures. By the final echo of “through it all,” we’re left wondering which will hold longer—the vow or the fear.
