Verse 1
You walked into adulthood like a storm,
loud enough to drown out the parts of you
that were still shaking.
You wore arrogance like armor,
mistook distance for strength,
and convinced yourself that feeling nothing
was the same as being in control.
But underneath all that noise,
you were still the kid who learned to hide.
Pre‑Chorus
You pushed people away
before they ever had the chance to stay.
You called it independence,
but it was fear wearing your voice.
Chorus
You need to change —
and you will.
Get over yourself,
because the world doesn’t need another man
pretending he’s unbreakable.
Being kind while you’re hurting
is a gift you never learned to give,
but these new people didn’t hurt you —
don’t make them pay for ghosts
they never met.
You’ve got trust issues carved from childhood,
but there are people you can trust.
Let them see the real you
before the mask becomes permanent.
Verse 2
You became a jerk to deflect,
and at the time, it felt justified —
like you were finally the one in control.
But all you were doing
was swinging at shadows,
hurting people who reached for you
because you didn’t know how to be held.
You mistook your own pain
for permission to be careless.
Bridge
If I could talk to you then,
I’d tell you the truth you kept running from:
you weren’t protecting yourself —
you were isolating yourself.
Not everyone is your past.
Not everyone is waiting to break you.
Some people want to know you,
not the version you built to survive.
Final Chorus
You need to change —
and you will.
You’ll learn that kindness
doesn’t make you weak,
and vulnerability isn’t surrender.
These new people didn’t hurt you —
don’t hand them the punishment
meant for someone else.
Your trust is damaged,
but not destroyed.
Let someone in.
Let someone see you.
Let the mask crack
before it becomes the only face you have left.
Nightshiftradio
