Billie Eilish’s haunting single “bury a friend” grapples with themes of fear, dissociation, and mental anguish. Released in 2019 as part of her debut album When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?, the track delves into Billie’s unconscious, exposing listeners to anxious thoughts typically hidden or suppressed. The song takes on the ominous perspective of the monster under her bed, ultimately showing us how the lines between self and other often blur and that the true “monster” may not be something external but rather lies within ourselves, in this case, Billie herself.

Why don’t you run from me? / Why aren’t you scared of me?
Why do you care for me? / When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

This opening verse captures something familiar to many living with mental health struggles: the simultaneous desire for intimacy and nagging belief that we are unworthy of it. Billie has never feared naming these feelings, having been courageously open from the start of her career about her battles with depression, self-harm, intrusive thoughts, and suicidal ideation. In an interview with Gayle King for CBS This Morning in 2020, speaking candidly about the incredible pressures and loneliness of skyrocketing fame at such a young age, Billie recalls standing alone on a hotel balcony in Berlin, distraught and genuinely considering jumping, worried she wouldn’t “make it to 17.”

It’s this raw honesty that makes “bury a friend” so much more than just a song. The lyrics encourage introspection, are at once confrontational and muted, reflecting the disconnection so many feel when dealing with mental illness.

Today, I’m thinkin’ about the things that are deadly
The way I’m drinkin’ you down / Like I wanna drown, like I wanna end me.

There’s something unsettling and jarring about how casually death is introduced here. That’s what makes it real. Billie doesn’t dramatize her pain; she simply states it. And that straightforward honesty is what strikes a chord. For some, it’s also the first time they’ve heard their own thoughts expressed and validated out loud. 

The production, minimalist, and unpredictable, serves the song’s emotional core. Jolting sounds and eerie whispers mirror the feeling of being trapped inside one’s own mind. The horror-inspired elements aren’t merely for stylistic effect, they demonstrate the gut-wrenching way mental illness can feel inside the body.

Step on the glass, staple your tongue (Ahh)
Bury a friend, try to wake up (Ahh)

These dark metaphors aren’t just there for shock value. They signify what it feels like to live in a body that’s become unfamiliar. A mind that no longer feels safe. Where loss of trust in oneself, disembodiment, and numbness are standard fare, and while it may sound extreme, it speaks to a kind of inner violence that many trauma survivors know all too well.

For the debt I owe / Gotta sell my soul
’Cause I can’t say no, no, I can’t say no.

This “debt” echoes the emotional toll of survival, the cost of being silent, and the weight of saying “yes” when everything in your body wants to scream “no.” It’s about control. About the parts of us that have been conditioned to comply, even when it hurts.

But in all this darkness, there’s something else: connection. Billie doesn’t package her pain into something pretty or palatable. She just tells the raw and honest truth. And that truth, however messy, can be a life raft of sorts. When someone says what you thought you were the only one feeling, something releases and shifts. While being seen and understood doesn’t solve everything, hearing that others get it and have been there helps loosen the grip.

Billie made it to 17. And then 18. And then the Grammys. And still, she talks openly about her mental health. About the days that still feel heavy. The days she wants to disappear. And the days she doesn’t.

Maybe “bury a friend” isn’t a cry for help, but rather a whisper to those listening in the dark: You’re not crazy. You’re not broken. And you’re definitely not alone. Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is name what’s hurting. Sometimes that’s how we survive.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you don’t have to do it alone. In Canada, reach out to Talk Suicide Canada at 1-833-456-4566 or text 45645.

Listen to “bury a friend” on Spotify or YouTube.

Image Credits: Photo by hansskuy  on Pexels.