Bathtoast and the line I nearly didn't write
There is a line in Bathtoast that I nearly removed more times than I can count.
Sharp things in drawers, I'll never touch
It is not the most graphic line I have ever written, and it is not there for shock. But it sits closer to the edge than anything else in this project, and I knew that from the moment it arrived.
The hesitation was not about taste, or craft, or whether it worked musically. It was about people. About not wanting to alarm those I care about. About not knowing whether they were ready to hear that thoughts like this have existed in me more often than I would like to admit.
A line that took time
The line did not arrive fully formed. It circled for a while.
I knew roughly what I wanted to communicate, but it is a difficult subject to handle without tipping into something that feels gratuitous, or written purely for effect. There is a fine balance between honesty and spectacle, and it is very easy to get that wrong.
Part of the difficulty was that the line sits on a boundary between literal and metaphorical. There have been times in my life when I have genuinely felt close to that place. There have also been times when it is a way of communicating a feeling without quite being at the breaking point. Both of those realities felt true, and I did not want to flatten them into something simpler.
Where the song came from
There is a strange irony at the heart of Bathtoast. The song itself started as a dark joke. Someone once made an offhand comment about taking a toaster into the bath because bath toast was the best toast. That kind of gallows humour stuck with me.
The title keeps a trace of that humour, but the song itself does not. I deliberately stripped most of the joke out of the music and the lyrics, leaving the title as a kind of ambiguous entry point. It might draw people in because they are curious. What they find once they are there is something much heavier.
This demo version of the song does not include lyrics
The cause of, and solution to
The line exists partly to talk about the relationship between ADHD and depression. ADHD commonly comes with comorbid mental health issues, and some of the outcomes of ADHD behaviours can create genuinely traumatic life experiences. Over time, those can become catalysts for depression.
There is also something deeply cruel about the way executive dysfunction operates. It can be the cause of so many failures, missed opportunities, and moments of self-loathing. At the same time, that same dysfunction can sometimes act as a kind of accidental protection. Not entirely, and not reliably, but often enough that it might lower risk simply by making action harder.
It is both the problem and, occasionally, the thing that stops the worst outcomes. That contradiction felt important to name, even obliquely.
Why I kept it
I kept the line because it felt necessary.
I wanted to hint at the reality of suicide rates among people with ADHD without turning the song into a statement or a warning label. I also hoped that, for someone who recognises that place, the line might land as a quiet acknowledgement. Not encouragement. Not instruction. Just a recognition that feeling numb, stuck, or unable to act can sometimes be safer than acting on overwhelming thoughts.
I tried changing the wording. I tried softening it. Every alternative broke the rhythm or the rhyme, or felt like it was stepping away from the truth. In the end, it stayed exactly as it was.
Where it sits
In the song, the line sits in the middle section. It is an introspective moment, slightly pulled back from the rest of the track. Looking back, I think that placement suits it. It is not shouted. It is not underlined. It is allowed to exist and then pass.
Now, I am more comfortable with it. It anchors the real point of the song. While Bathtoast begins with something almost playful, what it is actually about is the weight of repeated failure, the shame that comes with it, and the risk that accumulates when those feelings are left unsupported.
Few people have heard the lyric so far, and I am still nervous about how it will be received. But this line links everything else together. It is the moment where the song stops being abstract and becomes honest.
This article, like the song, is about honesty above all. I am not interested in moral framing, or neat conclusions. I do not want to sensationalise the worst outcomes, but I do not want to pretend they are not there either.
Bathtoast is more dangerous than it first appears. The title might smile, but the song is serious. And that line is the closest this project comes to naming just how serious it can get.
Previous writing: Everyone Hates Me, and what that voice sounds like.
Next writing: Blue Screen of Life, and emotional overload.