I’m not dead
I’m not fixed, but I’m not giving up yet
I’m sick of saying that I still don’t have anything done
I hate telling friends I’m trying something just to give it up
I’m still unsure of my emotional state
I’m still incapable of focusing lately
I don’t feel like creating
I’m tired of asking Google how to find motivation
I don’t think I’ve ever made something that’s as good as I’m capable of
I hate not having a reason to look my best
I only ever take care of myself with the intent to show the internet
If what made me successful was an imposed sense of stress then
I am so so glad that I hated myself
I didn’t luck into this position
I struggle with decisions
I wouldn’t be my own friend, I’m too inconsistent
without immense pressure nothing ever gets finished
If these words make it to your ears it’ll be a fucking miracle.
I’m fortunate to know more good people than most do
I wish I had more friends I could be physically close to
I’m pretty good at like 20 different skill sets
At the expense of never being great at any one of them
I wish this beat hit harder
I wish more syllables rhymed
I know 99 percent of people really don’t mind
I think collaborating forced me to finish things ‘cause
I was terrified of wasting famous people’s time
I wish I could focus on what I define priority
I wish I was as grateful as I want to be
I wish I knew more people who were mentally stable
But if I did, I wouldn’t let them waste their time on me while I’m disabled
I feel alone
I know I’m not
I used to talk to lots of people. Lately I’ve stopped
They didn’t deserve it, I’ve been a terrible friend.
I couldn’t bear to let myself become boring to them
I don’t let myself get my hopes up. I love people who do.
Ah, I never know if what I say I feel is the truth
I wish I didn’t instinctively try to be less specific
So more people could relate when they read along with the lyrics
I can be happy in the moment
I am not when I reflect
I distract myself with gaming, waiting to get better
I hate it
I wanna do the most good, and prevent the most hurt
But I’ve gotta put on my own oxygen mask first
I can’t predict what I’ll do. I can never be sure
I am terrified of making promises any more
I can’t face my work, I feel sick from the word
I genuinely believe I’m capable of changing the world
I still think I can get better
I still think I can create and get pleasure from it
I’ll keep aiming to make my emotion and my logic agree
And become the best version of me
I don’t want to stop
I hope you like it!