mr. positive

everybody telling me

that i need a break,

but if i take one,

my soul would break,

i’d be an even bigger

waste of space,

life would take me,

hustle culture’s

got me by the waist,

and now i’m falling

flat on my face,

overwhelmed by all

the emotions i face,

coming off the last record,

you would think

i wouldn’t have

anything left to make,

but i didn’t expect

to be back in this place,

loaded up on self-hate

and i got ‘em worried

for my mental state.

i’m not trying

to ignore what you say,

trust that i hear it,

i know i got people

that wanna see me win

but i can’t get

outta my own head,

i wanna get off

the internet

but i need it to live,

and now i got ‘em scared

i’m gonna hurt myself,

i promise i’m not,

i got enough on my plate,

tryna be a guardian

to someone older than me,

if you think i’ve got it bad,

he’s me times ten,

sometimes i don’t even know

who i’m talking to

when i look in his eyes,

or if he hears my advice,

tried to get him off the pen,

but he doesn’t listen,

turning into a therapist

when it’s me

that needs that shit,

it’s got me wishing

this life was different.

i miss being mr. positive,

peace, love and rockstar shit,

the wide-eyed kid

who hadn’t been hit by life yet,

the one that hadn’t been

existentialist,

mama used to tell me

people come back to life

after they die,

i think she just wanted

to help me sleep at night,

i miss being the kid

that thought family came first,

before i knew

what they’d really do,

then had to be told

i should love him

after all the disrespect,

i miss when i talked a lot

but didn’t say too much,

now i always feel like

i should never say shit.

i miss when i didn’t

have to worry

i’d be homeless,

when student loans

were words i didn’t know,

i miss when i didn’t

self-sabotage

every situation i got in,

i miss when i had

no idea what love was,

when i didn’t catch feelings

for someone i had

no chance with,

before the one

i thought i loved

took advantage,

and before i tore

the team apart

with my feelings for one,

peer-pressured to admit it,

now it’s feeling distant,

insist we’re still cool,

but i wish i could believe you.

did i say too much

just by writing this out?

too much time

trying to offer help

when i need it myself,

but the search

only gets worse

because the industry sucks,

they’d rather see

depressives die

than improve their lives,

treat therapy like a luxury

and not a right,

this world is fucked

no matter where you turn,

survival of the fittest,

and i’ve been through it,

but i’m still here,

out of breath

but i’m still running,

out of energy

but i’m still fighting,

it’s all i’ve known how to do,

so i’ll just do it.

i’ll be good one day.