"One day you opened up your eyes inside of you
Inside a world inside a universe you didn't get to choose
You didn't get to pick the rules or pick the past or set the pace
Or cast the cast and crew you didn't get to pick your starting place
And though it was a race you didn't understand
You simply lined up on the blocks and when the pistol popped you ran
And when you tripped and dropped you picked yourself up off the ground
And picked your scabs you knew you had to pick a plan to end what you began
As you got older there were days of cold surrender
Days of shrugged whatever's folded in with days of shocking splendor
But as time advanced the lovely days were covered up from view
By an advancing melancholy haze that hovered near the dew
Yet there were moments
There were these pure arresting moments when you stepped outside your head
Outside your pain outside control, outside the bulls**t, out of body, out of rage
Outside the need to get it, get it, you will never get it, that's okay"
-Watsky, Talking to Myself