I’m Not Dead

I’m not dead

I’m not fixed, but I’m not giving up yet

I’m sick of saying that I still don't have anything done

I hate telling friends I’m trying something just to give it up

I’m still unsure of my emotional state

I’m still incapable of focusing lately

I don’t feel like creating

I’m tired of asking Google how to find motivation

I don’t think I’ve ever made something

That’s as good as I’m capable of

I hate not having a reason to look my best

I only ever take care of myself with the intent to show the internet

If what made me successful was an imposed sense of stress then

I am so so glad that I hated myself

I didn’t luck into this position

I struggle with decisions

I wouldn’t be my own friend, I’m too inconsistent

without immense pressure nothing ever gets finished

If these words make it to your ears it’ll be a fucking miracle.

I’m fortunate to know more good people than most do

I wish I had more friends I could be physically close to

I’m pretty good at like 20 different skill sets

At the expense of never being great at any one of them

I wish this beat hit harder

I wish more syllables rhymed

I know 99 percent of people really don’t mind

I think collaborating forced me to finish things ‘cause

I was terrified of wasting famous people’s time

I wish I could focus on what I define priority

I wish I was as grateful as I want to be

I wish I knew more people who were mentally stable

But if I did, I wouldn’t let them waste their time on me while I’m disabled

I feel alone

I know I’m not

I used to talk to lots of people. Lately I’ve stopped

They didn’t deserve it, I’ve been a terrible friend.

I couldn’t bear to let myself become boring to them

I don’t let myself get my hopes up. I love people who do.

Ah, I never know if what I say I feel is the truth

I wish I didn’t instinctively try to be less specific

So more people could relate when they read along with the lyrics

I can be happy in the moment

I am not when I reflect

I distract myself with gaming, waiting to get better

I hate it

I wanna do the most good

And prevent the most hurt

But I've gotta put on my own oxygen mask first

I can’t predict what I’ll do. I can never be sure

I am terrified of making promises any more

I can’t face my work, I feel sick from the word

I genuinely believe I’m capable of changing the world

I still think I can get better

I still think I can create and get pleasure from it

I'll keep aiming to make my emotion and my logic agree

And become the best version of me

I don’t want to stop