I'm Alive Lyrics
I'm Alive
GABE:I am what you want me to be
And I'm your worst fear, you'll find it in me
Come closer
Come closer
I am more than memory, I am what might be
I am mystery
You know me
So show me
When I appear it's not so clear if I'm a simple spirit or I'm flesh and blood
I'm alive, I'm alive, I am so alive
And I feed on the fear that's behind your eyes
And I need you to need me, it's no surpise
I'm alive, so alive
I'm alive.
I am flame and I am fire
I am destruction, decay, and desire
I'll hurt you
I'll heal you
I'm your wish, your dream come true
And I am your darkest nightmare too
I've shown you
I own you
And though you made me, you can't change me
I'm the perfect stranger who knows you too well
I'm alive, I'm alive I am so alive
And I'll tell you the truth if you let me try.
You're alive, I'm alive, and I'll show you why
I'm alive, so alive
I'm alive
I'm right behind you.
You say forget but I'll remind you.
You can try to hide but you know that I will find you.
'Cause if you won't grieve me, you won't leave me behind.
Oh, how, oh
Woah
Woah
No, no, no
I'm alive, I'm alive, I am so alive.
If you climb on my back then we both can fly
If you try to deny me, I'll never die
I'm alive, so alive
I'm alive
Yeah yeah
I'm alive
I'm alive
I'm alive
I'm alive
Song Overview

Song Credits
- Album: Next to Normal (Original Broadway Cast Recording)
- Release Date: 2009-05-12
- Producers: Tom Kitt, Joel Moss, David Stone, Kurt Deutsch
- Writers: Tom Kitt & Brian Yorkey
- Genre: Broadway, Rock, Soundtrack
- Instruments: Violin, Cello, Guitar, Bass, Drums, Percussion, Keyboards
- Label: Ghostlight Records
- Vocals: Aaron Tveit
- Orchestration: Michael Starobin & Tom Kitt
- Conductor & Music Director: Charlie Alterman
- Recorded At: Ghostlight Records
Song Meaning and Annotations

Welcome to the anthem of the ghost who won’t go quietly. "I’m Alive", sung with piercing charisma by Aaron Tveit in Next to Normal, is more than a showstopper — it’s a spectral seduction, a psychodrama set to pulse-pounding rock.
“I’m Alive,” sung by Aaron Tveit as Gabe in Next to Normal, opens with a line that hits hard right away. Gabe states his existence plainly, boldly, as if daring us to question it. He is Diana’s creation, her deepest longing and most powerful illusion. The song immediately captures his role in the show. Gabe isn’t just a memory. He’s a living manifestation of everything unspoken, unresolved, and unhealed within this family.
To each member of the Goodman family, Gabe becomes something uniquely terrifying. For Diana, he embodies her illness and her complicated grief. Her desperate attempts to keep him close collide with her fear of what his presence truly means. In “I Dreamed a Dance,” that emotional tug-of-war is devastatingly clear. Gabe is what she can’t let go of, and what’s dragging her down.
For Dan, Gabe is the echo of a loss he refuses to face. By denying Gabe’s existence, Dan buries his grief so deep that it begins to rot from within. Gabe’s hold over Diana isn’t just a reminder of what was lost, it’s Dan’s worst nightmare—proof that she may never recover, and that he may end up completely alone.
Then there’s Natalie, who exists in Gabe’s shadow. She sees him getting the attention she craves, even though he’s not alive. He mocks her position in the family, not with cruelty, but with unsettling charm. His presence reinforces everything Natalie fears she’ll never escape—being second, forgotten, invisible.
Gabe is more than memory. He’s a wound that’s too deep for the mind to forget and too raw for the soul to heal. He represents the “what if,” the could-have-been if he’d survived infancy. The adult figure we see is imagined, but so vividly realized by Diana that he feels real, not just to her, but to the audience.
Throughout the show, the medical professionals struggle to treat Diana’s bipolar disorder. It’s not just about misdiagnosis, but the larger reality that mental illness isn’t always something you can map or contain. Gabe, as a product of her condition, becomes this mysterious, intangible force that no doctor can touch. Yet his influence is terrifyingly real.
When Gabe is on stage, his interactions with Diana are fully physical. He hands her things, takes things from her. These actions trick the mind into thinking he might exist, which makes the hallucination even more powerful. And even though we later learn the truth—that he died as an infant—we, too, have been swept into Diana’s illusion. Until “He’s Not Here,” we believe in his reality, just as she does.
The phrase “I’m alive” rings with bitter irony. Gabe is, of course, not alive in a literal sense. But as the embodiment of Diana’s trauma, as the symbol of a mental illness that controls her every breath, he may as well be. The more she suffers, the stronger he becomes. And that’s the terrifying paradox—her descent into illness feeds his power, and his power drags her further down.
Gabe’s survival depends on Diana’s inability to let go. As long as she clings to his memory, as long as she’s unable to move forward, he thrives. He becomes her comfort and her curse. He isolates her from her family, yet he’s also the one thing she feels she still has.
In one verse, Gabe turns to Dan. This is a direct challenge to the father, who has refused to see him for so long. Gabe embodies Dan’s greatest fear—that Diana will never be whole again—and also his greatest wish: that maybe, somehow, Gabe never died. That he and Diana never broke.
Gabe’s possessiveness over Diana intensifies throughout the musical. His lines reveal just how tightly he’s wrapped himself around her psyche. When she begins to make progress in treatment, when the grip of illness begins to loosen, Gabe reacts violently. He’s desperate to hold on, because healing threatens his very existence.
He makes it clear that even though he lives only in Diana’s mind, she has no control over him. And that’s one of the most disturbing truths in the show. Gabe represents a part of her that she cannot master. None of the therapies work, none of the medications bring peace. Eventually, his influence becomes so unbearable that it leads Diana to attempt suicide.
In another chilling moment, Gabe addresses Dan again, saying that while Dan only knew him as a baby, Gabe has known his father every day since. Eighteen months of life for Gabe, eighteen years of haunting for Dan. Gabe sees everything. He knows every weak spot, every hidden truth. Dan, in contrast, knows nothing about the being Gabe has become. He’s a stranger to the ghost of his own son.
Later in the song, Gabe speaks to Diana with manipulative sweetness. He claims to know the truth and offers it to her, as if what he’s saying could be trusted. But he’s not real. He’s a part of her, twisting her thoughts, breaking down her resolve. This line becomes a subtle foreshadowing—Gabe will later tell Diana that treatment won’t help, that escape is the only answer. His words push her to the edge.
There’s no real escape from the death of a child. It’s a pain that lingers forever, reshaping the parents’ lives. And trying to suppress it, to bury it beneath forced smiles or denial, only gives it more power. Gabe becomes louder, more present, because of the silence surrounding him.
When Diana is told to forget Gabe, he pleads with her not to. He tempts her with the idea that embracing his existence could bring happiness, peace. But it’s a false promise. He’s still dead. His memory may never fade, but that doesn’t make him real.
The staging of this song is visually haunting. Until this point in the show, only two levels of the stage have been lit. But as this number begins, the main stage—the bottom level—is illuminated, with Diana alone in reality. Then Dr. Madden asks why Gabe still lingers in her mind. Music begins, and a harsh light floods the second level, where Gabe appears, gazing down at her.
He begins to sing, dancing and moving with an eerie elegance. He stalks Natalie as she moves to steal her mother’s pills. He addresses Dan directly, singing lines like “You can try to hide, but know that I will find you.” Each action drives the sense that Gabe is everywhere, a constant, invisible force pulling the family apart.
By the end of the song, Gabe bolts to the topmost level of the stage. Diana reacts immediately, flinching as she looks up. Now he is cast in a deep red light, his silhouette towering over everything. The image is chilling. Dan and Natalie step into the center of the second tier, but the lights drop on them. Gabe remains illuminated, looming. In that moment, he’s untouchable, more powerful than any of them.
He has won—for now.
Though I couldn’t find a photo that captured this exact moment, stage photos from Next to Normal clearly show the layered setup, with Gabe elevated above the rest. It's a striking visual metaphor for his dominance over the family, especially Diana. He is the weight they all carry, the presence they can’t shake, and no one, least of all Diana, can break free.
A Voice from the Abyss
Gabe, the son who exists more as presence than person, bursts in with:
"I am what you want me to be / And I'm your worst fear"
His words are both invitation and invasion. He’s not just a memory; he’s grief anthropomorphized. He’s trauma in tap shoes, dancing through Diana’s fractured mind. The audience knows — Gabe died as a baby. What’s singing now is the psychological phantom left behind, the unprocessed pain dressed in charm.
Allegory with a Drumbeat
Each pounding rhythm, every searing guitar lick in "I’m Alive" serves a dual function — adrenaline and anxiety. The music mirrors Diana’s mental turbulence. Gabe seduces and stalks:
"I'm alive, I'm alive, I am so alive / And I feed on the fear that's behind your eyes"
This isn’t comfort — it’s control. He claims her past, her guilt, her present moments. He’s the internalized voice that refuses healing, echoing through synapses like a bad dream with a killer soundtrack.
Power Dynamics and Pathology
Gabe whispers promises of salvation:
"If you climb on my back, then we both can fly"
But he’s no savior. He’s manipulation incarnate. He offers power but drains it. Hope with a side of dependency. A reminder that not all inner voices are friendly — some wear your pain like perfume and never leave.
Similar Songs

-
“Me and the Sky” – Come From Away
While stylistically distinct, both songs present haunting internal monologues that reflect on identity, trauma, and transformation. They share intensity and an unflinching lens on how past experiences shape present selves. -
“Hello” – Evanescence
Amy Lee’s ethereal mourning of a lost sibling parallels Gabe’s haunting presence. Both tracks explore unresolved grief and the way the dead remain vividly alive in the minds of the living. -
“Dead Girl Walking” – Heathers: The Musical
This piece shares the rock intensity and youthful defiance of "I’m Alive", though with a darker comedic twist. Both songs blur the line between impulse and self-destruction with irresistible hooks.
Questions and Answers

- What does Gabe represent in “I’m Alive”?
- Gabe is the embodiment of grief and mental illness, particularly Diana’s unresolved trauma over losing her son. He’s not just a ghost — he’s a psychological construct, a haunting that lives inside her mind.
- Is Gabe actually alive in the show?
- No, Gabe died in infancy. His presence is imagined, a symptom of Diana’s bipolar disorder and psychosis. He functions more like a symbol or manifestation than a literal character.
- Why is the song so upbeat if it's about mental illness?
- The energetic, driving rock music reflects Gabe’s seductive power. He’s exciting, alive, charismatic — exactly how mental illness can feel to someone caught in a manic or delusional state. It mirrors allure, not reality.
- How does this song advance the narrative of Next to Normal?
- “I’m Alive” reinforces that Diana’s struggle is far from over. It introduces the ongoing tension between healing and relapse, between remembering and letting go. Gabe’s presence makes clear: the past still controls the present.
- What makes Aaron Tveit’s performance of this song iconic?
- His vocal control, charisma, and razor-sharp intensity give Gabe a magnetic danger. Tveit sings like he’s both seducing and strangling the audience — and that duality defines the entire number.