My Swirling Thoughts, or Whatever?

A Very Interesting Title for My First Train of Thoughts

He's so annoying, he's loud, he's childish, he's idiotic,
He's just too much to handle.
That's what they say.

He's so cheerful, always smiling. He's so forward, honest,
He's optimistic, a huge energy bomb.
That's what they say.

That, I'm aware of. Yet,
My brain convinced me, that
The latter's not true.

And I can't get through,
To see the good in me that others seem to find,
To see all my strengths people value in my friendships.

You know, once I was an infinitely happy, carefree child.
I've always been loud, had a strong opinion about everything.
I owned myself, was proud, shameless, honest,
maybe a little too forward.

One day little Daniel got in trouble in kindergarten,
So he had to talk to the principle.
Guess what he said to his parents:
I don't wanna talk to that stupid woman.

Don't get me wrong, Martha was a sweet, kind lady,
I just had my sense of justice, my view of the world,
And so did the reasons I acted towards people.

I always seemed to find joy in the smallest things.
I do now, too, sometimes,
But life taught me otherwise.

Oh, the cruel life, so evil,
breaks your heart, whatever.
Yeah, everyone's been there, you grew up, get over it.

That, I cannot argue with.
I don't have a problem with growing up,
More freedom, more responsibilities,
Plus, you can drink as much as you want.

Yeah, drinking. Once you discover the joy booze can bring,
It's hard to deny that it can draw your problems away.

But you see, that's an illusion. You get drunk, you dance, you sing,
You let your walls down for a couple of hours.
You're relieved to feel like that carefree, little child
That's still a part of you. You feel like the world is yours.

Then you hear something. See something.
Or a thought crosses your mind.

Now you're going down on an exponential hill.
Your problems, your fears are bubbling up,
Poisoning your brain, yet, you're sitting still.

You roll a cigarette, grabbing into the hope,
the tingling rush of nicotine,
Praying that blowing out the smoke,
Would float your problems away.

You watch the toxic particles dancing in the air,
Contemplating about how your life went downhill.
You seem to be fine, just drunk and chill,
Nobody notices your suffering.

You get home, sad and drunk,
Fall into bed, hoping that tomorrow's getting a bit better.
You fall asleep, dreamless, numb,
To carry on the next day, what's left is just a hangover.