Fucking annoying, right?

Sorry. Annoying, right?

I can’t even express myself the way I want,

Because no one can understand what I’m going through.

They know me too well,

All my defaults, my qualities,

The way I roll those bloody cigarettes,…

I can’t even have my own secret garden,

Because they invaded it like parasites,

Mumbling CONSTANTLY about every single one of my actions.

The worst part is that it’s like talking to kids,

You tell them to shut up and they just don’t care,

And they go on and on and on…

I can’t support them anymore.

But if I have to be sincere…

They do make me feel something I’ve never felt.

A feeling that has never crossed my path,

I never felt so known than by the voices in my head,

And honestly I wish I wasn’t so popular.