Crests and Troughs

Small Intimacies

Trigger Warnings: mentions of suicide, eating disorders, self harm, gender dysphoria and parental issues.
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Song 1: COFFIN ~ Jessie Reyez ft. Eminem

Song 2: it's not u it's me ~ Bea Miller, 6LACK
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I walk up to the edge, yeah
And say a prayer before I let go
(Let go, let go)
I'll prolly see you through the window
While I'm falling past the 5th floor
(5th floor, 5th floor)

You start to snicker.

Then you get there just in time to save me
And apologize
And maybe we could go back to bed

By now, you're cackling like a maniac.

But you run past me instead
And hit the ground before I can

The sick irony of this part of the song always makes you laugh. Making you feel good and slightly guilty at the same time. And, even though you don't like the pit in your stomach, you convince yourself it's funny and there's nothing wrong with feeling higher vibration emotions about these things that are usually so glum because it's natural. The feeling comes naturally to you and there's nothing to feel bad about.

You tell yourself that this is how these issues become less taboo, this is how they get talked about. Removing the fear around these issues will ultimately save lives.

Plus, you have suicidal thoughts anyway. This is therapy for you.

Knock. Knock.

Who the hell is this now?

As an afterthought, Maybe they'll help me forget.

You haphazardly jump from your bed to the door and upon swinging it open, encounter a mop of bleached caramel curls. All the while screaming coffin's lyrics.

"Maybe Buddha's got it right; we'll reincarnate everytime. And, I'll fight ya in another life.

"Maybe Buddha's got it right; we'll reincarnate everytime. And, I'll fight ya in another li-i-i-i-ife."

Smiling, because he's singing too, you push the door further open with all your weight because you never stand upright and always lean. On doors, walls, tables, desks, any and everything, to be honest. You wonder if that's a metaphor for something. It probably is.

He sets his bag down - and you're wondering what he's doing with a bag - then proceeds to take off his jeans, replacing them with the football shorts in his bag.

You smile bigger because he remembers you don't like outside clothes on your bed, especially jeans.

When he sits down, he looks at you like he wants to say something. So, you ask.

"What?"

"That's kinda toxic, isn't it?"

You chuckle because he's such a scaredy cat.

"Kinda? Of course it's toxic. It's toxic as hell."

"So, you like that?"

"Toxicity? Fuck, no! M'oulda neva tek up myself ah date Marshall. He's a misogynist and he's sick. It's just a fun song, Jeremy."

His face screws up in confusion.

"Oh shit. You know, you really need to start understanding patois, enu. I can't be bothered to translate in casual conversations."

He sheepishly - awkwardly - smiles.

"I mean, I get the gist now; it just took a while. Plus, you called him Marshall. Who calls Eminem, Marshall?"