Sara by We Three
There was a time when this song lived on repeat—not because it made me feel better, but because it understood me.
“Sara” was there during a season when I was quietly unraveling inside a life that looked intact on the outside. I didn’t have the words yet to explain what felt wrong. I just knew that I was tired of explaining myself, tired of hoping to be seen, and tired of loving in a place where love felt conditional and fragile.
This song captured the ache of loving deeply while slowly realizing that love alone doesn’t fix what refuses to meet you halfway.
When I listened to it back then, I heard longing. I heard loneliness. I heard a woman still trying to hold something together with tenderness and patience, even as it slipped through her fingers. There was grief in that listening—grief for connection, for safety, for the version of myself that believed if I just tried harder, things would soften.
Listening now, the song feels different.
I don’t hear weakness anymore.
I hear honesty.
I hear emotional endurance.
I hear a woman who cared deeply—even when it cost her.
“Sara” reminds me that there was nothing wrong with my heart. It was never too much. It was simply offering love in a place that didn’t know how to receive it. And that realization—painful as it was—became the beginning of my clarity.
Some songs stay with us because they mark where we were. Others stay because they show us how far we’ve come.
This one does both.
