Times Of My Life

by Mgk

I hope you doin' fine

I know we had our problems, but never mind

I just wanna say that, that I'm sorry after all this time

I know things change

But every single song still feels like you

I never knew pain

Until the day I didn't look back when I left you

And I know, I know, I know that you don't wanna hear it

But you know, you know, you know, you know, you know that

The best times of my life

Were the ones that had you

I had to bury them inside

To get me through

I hope you doin' fine

I know we had our problems, but whatever

I've been broken for some time now

And I'm just pullin' myself back together

I got rid of everything that smells like you

Before the summer, so

I can't spend time thinkin' 'bout somebody other than you

While I recover, hm

And I know, I know, I know that you don't wanna hear it

(You don't want to hear)

But you know, you know, you know, you know, you know that

(Yeah, you know)

The best times of my life (Times of my life)

Were the ones that had you (Were the ones that had you)

I had to bury them inside (Bury them inside)

To get me through (To get me through)

The best times of my life (Times of my life)

Were the ones with you, yeah, yeah

I hope you are fine knowing you hold on my best times, and

Without you I'm lying to myself saying that you'll come find me

I hope you are fine knowing you hold on my best times, and

Without you I'm lying to myself saying that you'll come find me

Interpretations

MyBesh.com Curated

User Interpretation

# The Weight of What We Bury: MGK's Meditation on Lost Love

Machine Gun Kelly's "Times Of My Life" operates as a raw confession disguised as an apology, one that ultimately reveals the speaker isn't seeking forgiveness so much as announcing his emotional paralysis. The core message wrestles with a painful paradox: to survive the loss of a profound relationship, one must bury the very memories that once gave life meaning. MGK communicates not redemption or closure, but the uncomfortable reality that some people remain emotional landmarks in our lives long after they've physically departed. This isn't about wanting someone back—it's about acknowledging that their absence created a permanent before-and-after division in one's personal timeline.

The dominant emotion here is grief masquerading as acceptance, that hollow-eyed acknowledgment that feels less like healing and more like exhaustion. There's a resignation in the delivery that resonates precisely because it refuses the false optimism of typical breakup anthems. The emotional texture mirrors that specific stage of loss where you've stopped crying but haven't started living—when you're functional enough to appear fine but hollow enough that every day feels performative. This liminal emotional state connects deeply with listeners who recognize that moving on isn't a switch that flips but a slow, unglamorous process of continuing to exist despite yourself.

MGK employs burial as the song's central metaphor, transforming memories into corpses that must be interred for survival's sake. This literary device powerfully captures how suppression becomes the only available coping mechanism when confronting unbearable loss. The imagery of eliminating physical reminders while being haunted by intangible associations creates a compelling tension—you can dispose of belongings, but you cannot delete someone from the infrastructure of your identity. The repetition of "you know" functions as both plea and accusation, suggesting that authentic connection leaves witnesses behind; the other person carries equal knowledge of what was lost, making the grief a shared secret neither can escape.

The song taps into the universal experience of recognizing, too late, that we measure our lives not by achievements but by the people who colored our perception of the world. There's a profound social commentary embedded here about our cultural discomfort with romantic regret and emotional permanence. We're told to "get over" relationships, to practice self-care and move forward, yet MGK admits what many privately acknowledge: some connections cannot and perhaps should not be fully overcome because they fundamentally altered who we are. This challenges the contemporary narrative that all relationships serve as lessons rather than accepting that some are simply losses.

The song resonates because it gives voice to the socially awkward truth that recovery isn't always empowering—sometimes it's just surviving with less of yourself than before. Audiences connect with the brutal honesty of admitting that the best might already be behind us, that we might be permanently diminished by certain losses. In an era of curated resilience and mandatory positivity, MGK offers permission to acknowledge damage without immediately reframing it as growth. This isn't cathartic; it's witnessing. And for listeners carrying similar buried memories, being seen in their unresolved grief matters more than any promise of eventual healing.

Posted on Jan 2, 2026 by Athena