Will I ever stop feeling stupid?
Will I ever stop getting hurt?
Is there something wrong with me?
Or is there something wrong with the world?
The things I don't think about
The things I ponder on for hours
The things I didn't even get to choose
Still end up being something to be upset about
For every problem solved there's a worse one
Every good thing turns into something I dread
And I'm so good at playing the victim
But it's me who's been making the bed
