Do you even know who you truly are?
Uhm, does anyone even truly know who they are?
Like, it's such a cliche question, but in reality most people have zero outlook on life
They just live and waste their precious time away
It's not even because they want to
They just don't know what else to do or why even bother
It won't work in the end anyways, right?

Life is meaningless, but that's not a bad thing
Afterall you make your own mеaning out of it
But finding that meaning is difficult
So, you might be asking yourself, how would I find mеaning in my endless cycle of a miserable life?
Well, uh, I don't know
And in all seriousness, I don't even know what I'm doing with my life
Making music, thinking I'm helping my endless lasting nihilism
Depression is just a concept by society
Everyone's depressed
Everyone's confused about life
Some less, some more
That doesn't mean that you should sit in your room and cry about something so little happening in your life and forget about it after two weeks

I don't wanna sound mean
But we all go through shit
And that's how a person grows and finds themselves
But you have to accept the fact that nothing will be handed to you
No one has good intentions for you
No one wants to see you succeed
Everyone is a selfish greedy piece of human trash
There's a reason people enjoy seeing the downfall of every single living person, right?
Because they realise they will never be in any sort of position to even think about that happening to them
Because no one cares about them
No one
Because they're a nobody
No one that should ever decide your life choices
Or make you feel bad about them


But why do you still care then?
I don't know
I don't know why I care

I mean I'm sitting here with the sense of realisation that I have built nothing for myself
I wasted time, tears and blood for something that has zero meaning to this world, but me
I'm ruining myself for something that I'm working so hard for but for what?
I don’t understand
All the time I could've spent with my family, my friends or just myself is all gone and I'll never be able to get it back
For something that has zero meaning to this world, but me
I hate everything I do and I'll never find the appreciation my work deserves by my own
And yet, I still do it and I'll never understand why
It's like a destructive, but obsessively loving relationship, you know?