Mura Masa (feat. Nao)
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.
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.
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.
I Kept Them.
I wouldn't trade Melancholy for anything.