isolation [matty healy]

pt. 5: open

i rolled my eyes, "matty, your face gives everything away."

we continued to banter when i set my phone down on the desk in my bedroom, and started walking around finding different things i could show him.

"well, um," i started, clearing my throat, "welcome to my humble art show. it will be very short, because i am not very good. okay, so, this first piece is something i completed early into the lockdown. i'm also just showing you this because this is probably the only thing in here worth looking at, but um, yep. this is my The Neighbourhood-themed jean jacket, hand painted," i held it up, turning it and giving him time to see the designs, and he said,

"well put it on then! give us a jacket tour."

i laughed at him as i pulled the sleeves onto my arms, and then i spun around, modeling the jacket for him.
"very nice," he said, with a smile. "what's next?"

i then went around my room showing him my different bits of wall art, things i was proud of and things i had half a mind to burn in the backyard. in between showing him things, we would start talking about 15 other things, so it was taking longer to show him around than i had initially thought it would. then, i showed him a pair of shoes that i had recently started painting, that i purposely saved for last.

"these are some old vans that i started painting last week," i said, slowly panning the camera down to the shoes on my feet. "as you can see, they have some pretty cool song lyrics on them."

he moved his phone closer to his face, squinting his eyes to read. "Jesus save us, modernity- oh cool!" he laughed a little as he recognized some of the words to his own song had made it onto my wardrobe.

we then started talking about inspiration, art, creativity, and the simple act of making something.
he moved over to where his piano was, and i got comfortable in my bed, sliding my shoes off while he spoke. it was getting past 9 by then; we had been on the phone for hours but it was going by so quickly with him. he started to play random songs on the piano, telling me that he was having a really hard time getting inspired lately.

"it's worse than being bored," he said, "because i know i'm not just bored. i'm dealing with too much shit and it's literally blocking me from being able to create, and i hate it. i want to fast forward to the time that i'm over it and i can enjoy writing again."

"i feel that, matty," i said, watching the ways his fingers moved over the keys. "i think the thing about pain is that it's guaranteed... it 'demands to be felt', so they say," he nodded his head at me, continuing to play while i spoke. "pain is a guarantee, but i don't think healing is. i think you have to fight for healing."

"that's absolutely true, and very emo of you," he said, smiling and then looking thoughtful. "i guess i've just been frustrated because i thought i was doing really well, and then it was clear that i wasn't. i hate feeling like i've let so many people down. when i get like this it's hard to see any way out. it's hard to get back up."

i nodded my head at him in response. after a few more seconds of listening to him play the piano i said,
"i may understand that more than you know," i paused, starting to feel scared to continue on the path of what i wanted to say, and i stopped myself. now is not the time to talk about your own feelings, i thought. give matty space.
then i said, "i'm really honored that you chose to open up to me. i know i'm a complete stranger, but i really don't take it for granted. i hope you know that you... aren't alone."

he looked right into my eyes when i said that, and then said, "thank you for saying that. i appreciate you, even though i'm also a complete stranger. kinda feel like i know you already." as he was speaking he got up from the piano and moved over to what i assumed was his bed, and got into a similar position as me.

"i feel the same," i replied. "kindred spirits." i yawned.

"sleepy spirits, i reckon," he said, smiling as he leaned into a very soft looking pillow. "it is difficult to get you to open up, but then again it's only our first official day of being friends."

"we're friends?" i said, surprised. "i'm flattered. also, since we're friends, i wanted to ask you a question. but if it's too personal, then..."

"what is it?"

"matty, did you eat something today?"

he started to roll his eyes but thought better of it, and then he said, "i had a bag of crisps before we started this facetime call, but i haven't had much of an appetite lately."

"could be the heat," i said, feeling like i was entering dangerously personal territory, "i just wanted to ask because i have a hard time eating some days too. it's easier to blame the heat."

he nodded as i spoke and then said, "is there some underlying reason?"

"mmm," i thought, "let me get back to you on that tomorrow."

"oh, are we saying goodnight?"

"i don't know. i'm uncharacteristically tired. probably all the emotional exhaustion from this damn storm-" as i finished saying that, there was a loud rumble of thunder, and i quickly pulled a blanket over my head, groaning.

matty laughed and said, "how about i play you to sleep? if you hate storms this much, you'll be up for hours."

i pulled the blanket away from my face and gave him a confused smile, trying to think of what to say, as he leaned over in his bed and picked up an acoustic guitar.
"matty," i said, "you don't have to do that. i know i said i'm a baby, but-"

"then let me sing baby to sleep," he smiled at me.

my heart was fluttering in my chest. "well, okay," i said, "but don't be offended if i pass out. and please hang up before i start sleep talking."

"well now you've given me every reason to stay on this call all night," he said, laughing at me. i groaned again. then he started to pluck some strings, and i immediately felt my clenched, stressed muscles starting to relax. at first i didn't recognize the song, but then i realized why it was so familiar.

"oh bitch," i said softly, "i love radiohead. i might start crying instead of falling asleep. oh, bitch..."

he just kept laughing and shaking his head at my incessant swearing, and continued playing the song for me. for me, i thought. just me, posted up in my bed, about to fall asleep in front of a literal famous person, who offered to sing me lullabies to get to sleep, who also called me his friend.

i started to hum along with the song, setting my phone down on my nightstand, thanking matty in a soft and dreamy voice. his version was a little longer than the original High and Dry, as he was playing slowly to remember all the right chords. he was singing very quietly, but it was so wonderful.

his voice was clear and pure, and i found myself saying a little prayer for him in my mind as i started to get more sleepy. i was still in some state of shock thinking about how this whole situation had come to be, and how this truly was the strangest year of my life.

i thought of matty, as the person i was getting to know, not his musician persona, or my idea of him. i thought of what he might be going through right now. i knew about some of his past struggles, things that he had made public, but i wasn't going to push him for information. he was proving to be very kind, and understanding, and i gave brief consideration to the idea of really opening up to him. would he care to hear about my life? even the dark parts?

i wondered, and then i was getting too tired to think that much anymore.

before i fell asleep, i heard him start playing something i didn't recognize, but it was beautiful all the same, and in a few more seconds i was passed out.