BLEACH

Single, 2020.

  • You say my name like you want it there,
  • In your voice, in you hair.
  • You look at me like you've got a dare:
  • Not to love you, not to care.
  • My attention's yours to wear.
  • If I could I'd leave it there,
  • On you like my body's bare.
  • You think I'm rare.
  • I need bleach to get some stains of me,
  • Before you see the parts that bleed.
  • You think I'm sweet. I think I'm weak.
  • I need bleach to get some stains off me.
  • I need bleach, I need bleach.
  • I need bleach!
  • I left my headphones on the sixty-one.
  • My thoughts have too much space to run.
  • I like the way you talk to everyone.
  • But if I tried, I'd look to dumb.
  • My attention's yours to wear.
  • If I could I'd leave it there,
  • On you like my body's bare.
  • You think I'm rare.
  • I need bleach to get some stains of me,
  • Before you see the parts that bleed.
  • You think I'm sweet. I think I'm weak.
  • I need bleach to get some stains off me.
  • I need bleach, I need bleach.
  • I need bleach to get some stains of me,
  • Before you see the parts that bleed.
  • You think I'm sweet. I think I'm weak.
  • I need bleach!
  • I need bleach, I need bleach!
  • I need bleach!
  • [Not verified.]
Entry 228.
  • BLEACH was written in quarantine, produced remotely, and exists because not even the unpleasantries of Zoom or email can stop us. It’s about not understanding how someone can like you as you are, and assuming that you need to hide parts of yourself in order to be loved.
  • But you don't! You don't need bleach! You're perfect.
Credits.

Written and performed by Brianna Clarke.

  • Herag Sanbalian, producer.
  • [Not verified.]
Entry 206.
  • Is this the part of being a kid that we bury? The part where everything you do is under a set of rules, some of which seem too conflicting to understand? All time-passing options fall within the walls you’re told to stay between, whatever’s in the fridge is what’s for dinner, and if you get bored, a voice somewhere tells you to: “Make something!” “Clean your room!” “Read a book.” Boring people get bored.
  • I cover it with an unretrievable love of popsicles and scrapes that hardly hurt cause the fall was too fun. Piles of Beanie Babies, PC mac and cheese, the smell of sunscreen and the feeling of clean sheets I didn’t have to clean.
  • I dismiss my childhood boredom in every memory. And I’ve been dismissing my social anxiety and need for voluntary isolation throughout this social distancing.
  • Under normal circumstances, I need space. But this week the space feels like a head cold and the thought of seeing my friends feels as distant as breathing easily when you’re stuffed up.
  • Maybe we all need space so we can remember to appreciate each other. Maybe we need to cook and clean in our own homes to appreciate the people cooking and cleaning in all our shared spaces. Maybe you need to sleep. Have a bath. Do a face mask. Indulge in the things that are usually snatched away by long shifts, looming deadlines, unrealistic expectations of routine optimization and an overbooked social calendar.
  • Cause we’ll look back on this with twisted fondness. The fear, uncertainty and idle anxiety will all fall away. We’ll remember grabbing a beer from the fridge at 4pm on a Tuesday and having an organized inbox. Napping cause you could, and feeling accomplished for cleaning the oven.
  • So to literally everyone, I miss you. I forgot how important you are in making everything feel worthwhile. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you enough when we were together, but I’m gonna keep tryna embrace this. Free of unhealthy productivity goals and guilt over stillness. Cause if I don’t, I’ll have to extend the same apology to myself in a month.