i think i love you • matthew healy

13. nervous

matty

i hate being on a plane.

and i hate flying over to different cities to do interviews where i say the same shit over and over. it's exhausting. i'm exhausted.

it's only been a few hours but i could feel my chest beginning to tighten while i'm twenty thousand feet up in the air, alone, with strangers.

it's anxiety; i really fucking hate being trapped in a small confined space. to try and deal with it i shove my earphones in and play a few songs from my phone and close my eyes. i wish i could take some drugs to ease the dread i'm currently feeling and just pass out, but i know i get real addicted to things that i know are not good for me.

and that's as sad as it seems.

—

rhiannon

i have been staring at myself in the foggy mirror for the past ten minutes.

and george is coming to pick me up in about fifteen, and i don't know if i should be crying or smiling about it.

this is good for me, isn't it?

for the longest time i have been trying desperately to find something good. something healthy. for once in my life i can tell that this isn't going to end up in burning flames.

i just wish i could stop thinking.

do i really want something good? or do i just want to feel something?

"that dress looks amazing on you, sweetheart."

alice is standing by the door again, frowning. "why the sad face?"

i wish i was better at hiding things. "it's cold." i say, gesturing to the thin fabric of this satin slip dress i had bought in one of the flea markets in london.

alice nods slowly, and i know she understands what exactly i'm talking about. i can never lie to her. "you don't have to take it seriously, rhian. he's just asking you to have dinner with him."

but it feels wrong.

"but to be quite honest, i can tell he's been in love with you from the beginning." she mumbles slowly.

"i think so too." i reply quietly.

maybe that's why it feels all wrong.

—

matty

"thank you." i mumble to the microphone, putting my guitar away after performing she lays down.

i've never actually gone around and played this song live before, and right now that i hear the crowd cheering in this room after playing a song about my mum's depression, i can see why.

i clear my throat and put on a small smile, resting my calloused fingers on my piano keyboard. "ehm... adam's not here currently, so this is quite a stripped back version."

someone from the back starts screaming, and i know it's because i'm playing the chords to somebody else.

i hate this song.

sonically i love how george and i came up with the production, but lyrically it's fucking awful how brutally honest i am when it comes to writing these things.