Tired of Surviving Shit (Fuck My Feelings)

I wake up pissed off, tired, and half-dead,

Life swinging at me before I even get out of bed.

Every day’s the same bullshit on repeat,

Another round of “Hey life, go ahead — knock me off my feet.”

I’m running on fumes, rage, and caffeine,

Sad as hell, but still pretending I’m damn serene.

People ask, “You okay?” — bitch, do I LOOK okay?

I’m one bad thought from telling everyone to fuck off today.

Yeah, I’m fine.

If “fine” means drowning in a puddle of my own bullshit feelings

that I didn’t fucking invite.

They just showed up like rent collectors.

I’m tired of surviving shit I never asked for,

And fuck my feelings — they started the damn war.

Every emotion hits like a kick to the teeth,

If misery had a crown, I’m crowned underneath.

Yeah, I’m tired, yeah, I’m pissed, yeah, I’m barely here —

But I’ll swing at the dark till it swings me clear.

I swear my emotions jump me like thieves in the night,

Sneaking up with anxiety just to start a fight.

My heart’s dramatic as hell, always pulling some shit,

“What now?” — bam, sadness hits me like a brick.

I didn’t choose trauma, I didn’t pick pain,

But every fucking day it circles me like a hurricane.

People say “it gets better” — yeah, in which universe?

Mine just turns every blessing into something worse.

My feelings?

Yeah, those assholes don’t pay rent either —

they just live in my head, trash the place,

and scream louder than my own thoughts.

I’m tired of surviving shit I never asked for,

And fuck my feelings — they started the damn war.

Every meltdown hits like a knife to the soul,

I patch it with rage just to feel half whole.

Yeah, I’m hurting, yeah, I’m loud, yeah, I’m still here —

But the world keeps swinging and I swing through fear.

I’m so damn tired of climbing out of holes I didn’t dig.

Exhausted from carrying pain that isn’t even mine.

My feelings show up drunk, cause chaos,

and leave me to clean the mess.

And I’m supposed to smile?

Fuck that.

Fuck the process.

Fuck the positivity pep talks.

I barely trust my own heartbeat anymore.

I’m tired of surviving shit I never asked for,

And fuck my feelings — they started the damn war.

Sadness swings first, anger swings next,

And I’m stuck in the middle, emotionally wrecked.

Yeah, I’m broken, yeah, I’m loud, yeah, I’m still breathing —

But damn if it ain’t the hardest fucking season.

If life’s gonna keep hitting,

I’ll hit back till my last breath.

Fuck my feelings — they threw the first punch.

I’m just finishing the fight.

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