Mura Masa (feat. Nao)

Flight Home

Three hours I spent on the plane to get back to you. On Wednesday, you were going to Hong Kong. I was meant to be coming back then, after packing up my apartment. I was going to miss you— you’d leave before I arrived. I had your Farewell Letter to deliver. I had it printed and sealed in an envelope in the folder in my backpack. I do well with endings when they’re soppy and extravagant and painful and beautiful. I wouldn’t let ours be a logistical mismatch.

Final Fantasy

  1. Cremated
  2. Mixed with gunpowder
  3. Open invite, audience gathered
  4. Fireworks display

False Selves

They’re repressed little assholes— a lot of them, at least. They all want to be me, but can’t. I hope she kills them off, like she keeps promising to.

Family Friend

I make sure people know I have trauma. My art lacks authority without it. People think I’m brave. Indeed, so brave I am for being sexually assaulted at Five-years-old. So brave I am for the Feeling Fingers under my Floral dress. So brave I am for Fighting back. So brave I am for having screamed and escaped. So brave I am that he was Fourteen. So brave I am for not telling my Family. So brave I am for continuing to go back there, every Sunday until I was Fortunate enough to become too busy. So brave I am for telling my boyfriend about it. So brave I am because he’d never touch me again.

For No Good Reason,

I Kept Them.

  1. My wisdom teeth, in a little jar beneath my sink.
  2. A cherry-flavored condom a boy left on the hotel room bedside, in a box in the corner of my room.
  3. The Disney-themed band-aids from the vaccinations I got when I moved countries, on the wall next to my bathtub.
  4. The times-tables my mom printed for me and stuck up next to the toilet, stuck up next to the toilet.
  5. The Stopayne mascot — small green synthetic ball with two googly eyes, crudely glued, received before my tonsillectomy, in my bedside drawer.
  6. The remains of my suicide note which I burned up with a lighter when I decided to never go through with it, in the box next to the condom.
  7. The lighter I used to burn up my suicide note, which I found at the end of the pier when I was down by the coast drunk at midnight in 2017, next to my bathroom sink.

Type Four, Enneagram


Ferrari, White, Free, Futura

I wouldn't trade Melancholy for anything.