While the last thing survivors need is more blame, our society supports a narrative that blames the objectively innocent party because the blatantly guilty party has spent their entire lives fabricating a persona and we’re just being human, and human psychology is quite counterintuitive especially in the context of trauma. Never actually understand, even if they try, because all they see is you, on fire, screaming about the arsonist that no one ever sees, and who has been spreading lies about your alleged mental instability, deceptive personality, etc. Anyways, I especially relate to her midnights becoming afternoons, complex PTSD often leads to this phenomenon, whether due to purposeful sleep deprivation by the abuser, or just hyper vigilance associated with the PTSD, along with the fear of facing people, especially your loved ones, who funny how you say the words domestic violence, abuse, abuse survivor and boom the subject changes. The abuser has no anxieties, no emotional pain, or salience/memory for that matter, so the survivor appears to be the crazy one, obsessed with the abuse and that buzzword that seems to ignite arguments about diagnosing people without a degree, etc. I believe this is another amazingly on point and nuanced commentary on the insanity that follows emotionally abusive relationships. “Saturday night is givin’ me a reason to rely on the strobe lights / The lifeline of a promise in a shot glass, and I’ll take that / If you’re givin’ out love from a plastic bag,” Ed sings on the chorus, as his friend turns to new vices in hopes of feeling better. In the second verse, Ed sings about the role of grief in his friend’s plight and his dwindling faith in prayer. He continues by adding that this person is feeling the weight of having disappointed his father and doesn’t have any friends to rely on in this difficult moment. “I overthink and have trouble sleepin’ / All purpose gone and don’t have a reason / And there’s no doctor to stop this bleedin’ / So I left home and jumped in the deep end,” Ed Sheeran sings in verse one. Unable to find any solutions, this friend seeks a last resort in a party and the vanity that comes with it. Ed Sheeran tells the story of his friend and the myriad of troubles he is going through. “Plastic Bag” is a song about searching for an escape from personal problems and hoping to find it in the lively atmosphere of a Saturday night party. (And that's what I like to call, a good fuckin' night)Īnd your sexy little body got me stuck, so what's really good Good fuckin' night (We gon' have one hell of a time) I'm tryna tell you I'm the one to hit the exit with The type to make you question all the rest you messin' with That's that extra shit, real long, extra thickĪ different type of breed ,a upgrade from that metric shit I creep up behind you, leave inside you, no exorcist Well I'm excellent, a sexual perfectionist I know your last boyfriend was only really good Girl I wish we really could do what we really should Your sexy little body got me stuck, so what's really good I'm just tryna grand slam like the boy Ken GriffeyĪnd I'm at the bar nine shots no fifty (50) Line full of sexy ladies tryna get with me You woulda thought it was a gym the way we flexin' I let twenties fly and send good ol' Benji to adlib it (I do!) The bottles coming like they got legs on them I love your sexy body and I know you love this paper Its showtime like cable, get up on that table I swear these 808s and snares make me go insaneĪy hold up baby girl I really wanna know your nameĪnd let me be your Superman and you be Lois Lane How they let me go and get a beat from Kane
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