I don’t know what day it is.
I don’t know if it matters.
Everything feels like background noise—
and I’m just the filler.
I don’t remember yesterday.
But it’s still happening.
Over and over
like clocks forgot how to tick
without dragging me through it.
The sun rose—
I think.
But I never really saw it,
just that same tired light
leaking through the blinds
like a glitch in the matrix.
I blink.
A week disappears.
I dozed off,
it's months I can’t get back.
Every day feels like
a rerun I missed watching.
I breathe,
but I don’t feel air.
I move,
but I don’t go anywhere.
I'm awake,
but I’m not alive—
just logged in.
It’s just another never,
just another loop,
days stacked like review
in an endless YouTube.
Reality’s broken,
my mind’s on mute—
this ain’t life,
it’s just something I commute.
My reflection don’t know me—
just copies my shape.
I wave,
but it just stares back
like it’s waiting for me
To catch back up.
I tried to write a list,
but the ink faded
before I could cross anything off.
I think I showered.
I think I ate.
But maybe it was just a thought.
Close enough.
The days don’t end,
they dissolve.
Like sugar in water,
like purpose in repetition.
I lose myself
somewhere between
"good morning" and
"what’s the point?"
I was told once,
“get up, go outside, touch the grass.”
But what if the grass
don’t feel real either?
What if the world
is just an illusion
stitched together
by people who don’t feel lost?
It’s just another never,
just another frame,
reality’s a filter
and I don’t fit the game.
I’m lagging in my body,
can’t patch this pain—
just a user
waiting for the crash
screen again.
Lights on,
nobody home.
Feet on the floor,
soul unknown.
Notifications blink,
but I ghost them all—
'cause nothing hits right
when you don’t feel at all.
They ask,
“What’s wrong?”
Like I can explain
this constant hum
of existential rain.
I’m not sad,
I’m not fine—
I’m just offline
on the inside.
How do you wake up
when you never really sleep?
How do you live
when everything’s on repeat?
How do you dream
when your head feels like a loading
screen?
It’s just another never,
just another blur,
time slipped out the back
and didn’t leave a word.
Reality’s buffering,
I’m stuck in-between—
this ain’t living,
this is just…
A dream.
Still buffering…
Still here…
Still nothing…
Still unclear…
If this is life,
when does it begin?
LyricallyInsane
