[2]-[6]-[4]-[9]-[3]; [1] is less high, too…

[Video][Website]
[4.17]

Claire Biddles: Between the twee Sandi Thom-core aesthetics and the numb-on-antidepressants message, there’s no way this isn’t a Scientology anti-psychiatry psy-op for the TikTok teens.
[2]

Ady Thapliyal: What “Happy Little Pill” was to Tumblr, this is to TikTok. Credit to Beihold for good hooks and simple lyrics that don’t affect an angsty poetic tone (Troye’s downfall); negative points for an anonymous vocal performance and production that’s a worse retread of “Groundhog Day.”
[6]

Ian Mathers: I can’t really put my finger on a specific-enough articulation of why, but this song keeps making me think of all those candle reviews that started showing up in early 2020 complaining that the candles were no longer scented.
[4]

Al Varela: I think I’ve gotten so used to Gen Z’s usual snarky, ironic, self-deprecating way of talking about mental health that I’m genuinely thrown off when a song on the subject is completely honest and vulnerable. There’s still a trace of irony, mainly in the upbeat piano instrumental and catchy hook, but Em Beihold delivers the song with the straight-faced, exasperated sigh of someone who just wants to be told what she’s feeling is normal. It’s the weird middle ground between depression and happiness where you have no strong feelings one way or the other, yet still have the desire to feel more. Obviously, the song is about depression, and it describes it in such a blunt and honest way that it doesn’t really need much else to reach the listener. Just the experience of being unhappy but not to extremes is so simple, relatable, yet really intense and personal. It’s made this song stick out as a fantastic depiction of depression and the struggle of managing it, even when you’re on medication. It didn’t need to put up its guard or deflect feelings in order to ask for help, and that’s the bravest thing about it.
[9]

Alex Clifton: Do you ever feel… like a plastic bag…
[3]

Oliver Maier: I really, sincerely hate the wave of pop songs that sound like this, sterile and frictionless and filled with these stupid little twee flourishes, flinging coherence aside in their desperation not to slip off your attention span. A miserable litany of bad hooks (one of which is surely just Mumford and Sons) and bad lyrics (“about mental health” in the most vacant way imaginable).
[1]