Is what I said
When I faked it all the way through, listening to better by Khalid, reminiscing about the times I was actually good at poetry and conveying my feelings, back when I was happy, back when I didn't think it was empowering to be in in pain.
It feels so good, but not really, it's like I'm fine with drowning in the atmosphere, not giving any fucks about what people actually think of me, and not caring that this life happening in my mind isn't at all what happens in "real life".
Attention just feels so good, you know?
Come on, you know that.
It's feels so good!
Everyone laughing at a borderline embarrassing-funny thing you did, intentionally or purposelessly, no one knows,
And you drown in the unclear acceptance, and finally getting the feeling that you're one of them
Finally!
I'm only writing for people, not for myself.
