[Opening]
[Room noise]
[Finger tapping on table]
tap...
tap-tap...
[Dirty electric guitar]
[Voice very close]
I only call
when I’m losing.
That’s not fair.
I know.
[Verse 1]
I don’t call
when I’m happy.
Think about that.
Good day?
I disappear.
Something works out?
Nothing.
I sleep okay?
You don’t hear from me.
But the second
my chest gets heavy...
there I am.
Your name
in the search bar.
Like you’re medicine.
Like you owe me
a quieter head.
[Small breath]
That’s ugly.
I know.
I used to call it:
“Missing you.”
Maybe sometimes
it was.
Other times...
I just needed
somebody familiar
to absorb me.
[Finger taps stop]
And you did.
Too many times.
[Verse 2]
You once said:
“You don’t want me.
You want access to me.”
I got mad.
Of course I did.
People get angry
when a sentence
lands too close.
I said:
“That’s bullshit.”
Then didn’t speak
to you for three days.
Which...
[small laugh]
probably proved
your point.
[Guitar bends slightly out of tune]
I hated
when you knew me
better than I knew myself.
But I loved it too.
That’s the problem.
I wanted you
to understand me
without ever
being allowed
to judge me.
Impossible.
Still wanted it.
[Low bass note enters]
BRRRM.
[Verse 3 - rhythm becomes tighter]
I remember
one night
I called you
at two something.
I was drunk.
Not destroyed.
Just enough
to say things
I wouldn’t say sober
and blame the alcohol
after.
You answered:
“What happened?”
I said:
“Nothing.”
You said:
“Then why’d you call?”
[Silence]
I didn’t know
what to say.
Because the truth was:
I wanted to hear
somebody
who had seen me
at my worst
and still knew
my name.
[Breath]
That sounds romantic.
It wasn’t.
It was desperate.
[Beat starts softly]
[Pre-Break]
And I think
I made desperation
feel like love
because love
sounds better.
[Voice cracks]
Fuck.
[Everything stops]
[Voice whisper]
Leave that.
[Distortion slowly rises]
I think I did.
[Explosion]
I USED YOU
WHEN I WAS EMPTY!
THEN DISAPPEARED
WHEN I FELT WHOLE!
I CALLED IT LOVE
BECAUSE “SELFISH”
HURT TOO MUCH!
I SAID:
“YOU KNOW ME!”
LIKE THAT MEANT
YOU HAD TO KEEP
SAVING ME!
[Blown-out drums]
I MADE YOU
MY EMERGENCY EXIT!
THEN ACTED SURPRISED
WHEN YOU LOCKED
THE FUCKING DOOR!
[Voice tears]
AND I HATED YOU!
[Band cuts]
[Breathing]
No.
[Long pause]
I hated
that you finally
protected yourself.
[Silence]
[Final Section - stripped again]
[Finger tapping returns]
tap...
tap...
I haven’t called
in six weeks.
Not because
I don’t think about it.
I do.
More than I’d admit
to anybody.
Sometimes I type
your name.
Sometimes
I even write:
“Hey.”
Then delete it.
Not because
I’m healed.
I don’t know
what that even means.
I just...
[Breath]
I finally noticed
that every time
I feel bad
I want to make
my feeling
somebody else’s job.
Usually yours.
[Low guitar]
And maybe
loving you now
looks like
not making you
pick up.
[Small pause]
I hate that.
Because there’s no reward
for doing the right thing
when nobody knows.
No message back.
No:
“I’m proud of you.”
No proof
you even noticed.
[Voice gets rough]
You just...
don’t call.
[Long silence]
And sit
with yourself.
[Distortion rises briefly]
[Voice almost screams]
I FUCKING HATE
SITTING WITH MYSELF!
[One violent drum hit]
[Everything cuts]
[Voice shaking]
Yeah.
That’s probably
why I should.
[Outro]
[Finger tapping]
tap...
tap-tap...
[Voice whisper]
If I ever call again...
I hope it’s
because I miss you.
Not because
I’m losing.
