I am sad, numb, trying to hold on to things that once made me feel alive. And, as the Goo Goo Dolls dramatically sang, “you bleed just to know you’re alive.”
Whenever I feel like emotions are a thing of the past and as though someone has scooped the Matilda out of me, that’s when I put on my chunky headphones, lay half-naked on my bed, and listen to…
Phoebe Bridgers.
Of course, once I’m done listening to all of her albums (starting with the one that feels most like a kick in the stomach, Stranger in the Alps), I then move on to Mitski, the Japanese House, the 1975, and so on. I am starting to unironically believe it’s a form of self-harm, because every time I feel like I want to die, all I can do is just add to that feeling by dragging myself deeper through the mud with Phoebe’s gut-wrenching music.