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DO NOT CONFORM

by Bexa Lala

supported by
Stephan Wolters
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Robert Swenson
Robert Swenson thumbnail
Tomasz Ludziejewski
Tomasz Ludziejewski thumbnail
HerrMaulwurf
HerrMaulwurf thumbnail
katossa
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  • A dedicated pink MP3 player with mini SD album version. Comes with white headphones. (The real item may differ a little bit from the photo, depending on the make)

    Includes unlimited streaming of DO NOT CONFORM via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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    edition of 5  1 remaining
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  • Full Digital Discography

    39
    releases

    Get all 39 Bexa Lala releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of 133133, Dance, MUND, Dihydrogen Monoxide, DO NOT CONFORM, WYGIWYG, NEW NOIZ, CLUB HAIRDRESSER, and 31 more. , and , .

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1.
Denis Always Delivers 02:39
2.
Free Accountant 02:51
3.
Holiday Adventure in Vienna 02:50
4.
Hot Hot Lake 02:51
5.
I Do Not Recall Breaking Up 02:47
6.
Jesus Loves You and You 02:50
7.
My Friend September 02:50
8.
Secrets 02:03
9.
Sirene Maybe? 02:51
10.
Vanilla Wall 03:00
11.
Wand For Wanda 02:50

about

I first saw him at the opera. Not the kind of place I’d expect to meet a guy like him—rough around the edges, with that look in his eyes like the world had already chewed him up and spit him out. He didn’t fit there, and neither did I, but that’s probably what drew us together. A friend introduced us, casual, like we were supposed to get along. We didn’t talk much that night, but I could feel it, something simmering between us, something inevitable.

The next time we saw each other, he took me out to the woods. It was quiet, peaceful in a way that made everything feel heavier, more real. We drove for a while, stopping here and there, talking about nothing and everything. I could tell he wasn’t used to people like me—someone who didn’t need to fill the silence with bullshit. He seemed relieved, like he’d been holding his breath for too long and finally found someone who let him breathe.

I liked him. Not in the way you fall in love with someone, but in the way you see something broken in another person and feel a pull toward it. He was fractured, and I could see all the cracks. It fascinated me.

It wasn’t long before we ended up in his basement, wrapped in each other, lost in the heat of it all. Pink Floyd on repeat, the sound of it floating in the air like smoke. It was wild, the way we moved together, like we were trying to burn something out of ourselves. The nights were long, the sex was raw, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world. But it couldn’t last, and I knew it.

He wanted space. I could feel it in the way he held me, in the way his eyes lingered too long on the door after we were done. It wasn’t just the heat that made him restless—it was me. I took what I wanted from him, but I gave nothing back, and he hated that. So, I left. Not for long, but long enough to let him think.

When I came back, something had changed. He was different, more distant, like he’d seen something in me he wasn’t ready for. We kept going, though. Kept fucking, kept drinking, but it wasn’t the same. He started asking questions, started watching me like I was hiding something. Maybe I was.

I could feel him following me after I’d leave his place. It wasn’t hard to notice—he wasn’t exactly subtle about it. I let him. Let him see the different directions, the different places. Some days, I did nothing. Just sat in the desert and stared at the empty sky, waiting for him to crack. Other days, I went about my day like any other woman would. I knew it was driving him mad, and that was part of the plan. He was unraveling, and I wanted to watch him fall apart.

One night, he finally asked. "Who are you?" The question hung in the air, thick with his paranoia, his confusion. He wanted an answer, and I wasn’t about to give him the one he expected.

"I’m no one," I told him, watching the flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Just like you."

He didn’t understand, but that was the point. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, couldn’t accept that I wasn’t something he could define or control. I could see the fear in him, that gnawing paranoia that had been building since the night we met. He thought there was a plot, something bigger than him, something that had pulled us together. Maybe there was. Or maybe he was just losing his mind.

He grabbed me, harder than before, and I let him. We drank, and we took pills, losing ourselves in the fog of it all. I watched him, watched the way his anger simmered beneath the surface, waiting to explode. And then, it did.

He wrapped his hands around my throat, and for a moment, I didn’t fight. I wanted to see how far he’d go, how deep the madness had sunk into him. His grip tightened, and I could feel the desperation in his touch, the need to make me real, to make sense of whatever we were. But when it went too far, when I felt the darkness closing in, I started to struggle. My nails raked down his arms, my body fighting to stay alive, but he didn’t stop.

I died there, in his hands. Or at least, I let him think I did.

When he woke up the next morning, I was gone, as if I’d never been there at all. No body, no blood, just the memory of what he’d done—and the scratches I left behind. He looked at his arms, the raw marks from where I’d clawed at him, and I could imagine the confusion, the horror, sinking in. He’d killed me, hadn’t he? But there was no proof, no evidence, no trace of the girl he’d strangled in a drugged-out rage.

He went to the police, of course. Told them everything. That he’d killed a woman, that he’d choked her with his own hands. But they didn’t believe him. How could they? No one was missing. He didn’t even know my name. I’d never given it to him, and now he was left with nothing but the weight of his guilt and the scratches on his skin.

They laughed at him, sent him away, told him he was crazy. Maybe he was. But that was the beauty of it all. I was no one, just a reflection of what he wanted, what he feared. He’d created me, brought me into his world, and now he’d have to live with the consequences.

As for me, I disappeared back into the shadows, where I’d come from. Maybe I’d find someone else to play with. Someone who wouldn’t ask so many questions. Someone who wouldn’t need to know *who* I was.

Because, in the end, I was no one. Just like him.

credits

released November 8, 2024

We Did It

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Bexa Lala Poznań, Poland

Just music.

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