Her Name Is Calla - Bloodline

I don't usually spotlight the same album twice in a short period of time, but for the past few days - hell, for the past few months - Her Name is Calla's latest and last album 'Animal Choir' hasn't left me for a single moment.
The band itself is fairly new to my life - I got to know them in 2013 only, when someone sent me a video to their song 'Dreamland'. That was my gateway into the band, and I've followed them ever since. Strangely enough, I don't have much of them on vinyl, and it was only with this new record that I decided to start getting their records. A good thing I did, because the awesome folks at Dunk Records put out an amazing vinyl edition of 'Animal Choir' that I just felt I had to have. I even ordered it without actually listening to the record once - it's just one of those bands for me.
If I recall this correctly, I actually didn't know at the time of purchase that this would be their final album - they disbanded after it - and I guess it might've only been through some reviews I read online that I found out, though by that time I'd already listened to the record a number of times.
Knowing the story, and understanding the lyrics written for it, makes for such a better experience altogether - if a somewhat painful and wholly emotional one at that.
I'll not review the album, that's not my purpose with this post.
My purpose is reasoning the whys and wherefores of the impact this record has been having on me.
My first listens to it gave me - here and there - a message of hope, a feeling that after all the darkness there could be a shining ray of light from on high, as a line in the beautiful track 'Frontier' so beautifully puts it - 'Love will bring you back to me'.
Further listens started to bring more than hope to the forefront. Dissatisfaction with so much that's part of our normal lifes, the breaking down of relationships, the strengthening of relationships, the questioning of the past as a means of ascertaining the future - see the recurring motif 'Am I the last of your life?' heard in 'To The Other', 'Robert and Gerda' and 'Bloodline', the complicated task of saying goodbye to so much of what you knew, of closing a door behind you and moving on, and the absolute despair that comes with the realization that you don't want to do what you used to anymore.

The aforementioned 'Bloodline' has a bit that says 'Everyone wants to be here, but no one knows why. Everything leads back here, but no one knows why.' - and it posits that question of whether or not you want to keep doing something that may no longer make you happy or fulfill you.
And, of course, it's replied by another line, repeated like a mantra, the singer's voice increasing urgency ringing in your ears : 'I don’t want to be a part of this'.
So what does one do when one makes that decision? How do you stop, how do you move on? How do you reason with yourself and with others that not only was this the right choice to make, it was the only choice left to make? What do you do when the bad starts to outweigh the good, but the good is still so good that you fear it becoming something else, and before it does, you have to make that decision?

'We wanted this loop and we’ll live it out now for as long as we can
I don’t want to be a stranger in a strange land anymore
There’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing else to do
This is the part where we change or we fade or we dig even deeper down
I’ll see you in the next life.'

These decisions are the type of stuff that I've never been good at. I never knew when to stop. I never knew when to let go. I never knew how to move on.

And as I listen to these words, all I can say is 'I don't want to be a part of this'. I'm exhausted. Life has been draining me and I have so little joy in the mere act of living. Maybe I don't live at all, I just exist. 

Maybe I'll learn these lessons. Maybe now. Maybe in the next life. I'll see you then.