There’s one type of person of whom I’ll never be jealous:
One that’s always sincere and a bit overzealous,
That takes their day with a side of emotion,
Can’t accept a kind word without a commotion.
The more open you act, the less honest you seem,
After watching a while, I am ready to deem
That all your sincerity’s making me feel
A bit nauseous; you’re forward, but none of it’s real.
I am going to tell you exactly what it is people have been hiding from you for years now: nobody fucking likes you. Everybody is annoyed by your presence. Nobody wants to be your friend. Just go away.
My life is a series of way-too-unimportants
Amidst a few way-too-highs and a few way-too-lows.
And I cannot decide which I find more unpleasant:
The strong, pointless feelings or this emptiness that grows.
Somewhere in the cracks between my joy and my pain
Seeds of apathy were sown and began to take root;
Life gave me the perfect mix of sunlight and rain
To ensure that not caring yields a rich blend of fruit.
There’s always an obvious path to be followed:
Least resistance is met when I stop caring overtly.
My echo chamber of emotions is ringing quite hollow;
There’s no way to be happy, but at least you can’t hurt me?
There’s no need now for tears, or any real introspection;
I’ll never feel sorry or down on my luck.
There’s no point in forging messy human connections –
It’s so much easier for me to just not give a
fuck.