[Intro — quiet, spoken]
Awake.
Already tired.
Still here.
⸻
[Verse 1 — modern, raw]
I wake up already drained,
like sleep didn’t do anything.
My body’s still in bed,
but my head is already online.
Thoughts hit all at once,
no order, no pause.
I’m tired of thinking
and tired of functioning every day.
I keep going.
But it costs me everything.
⸻
[Pre-Chorus — dry, honest]
People say “just pull yourself together,”
like my brain has an off switch.
They don’t see
how much energy it takes just to stay.
⸻
[Chorus — direct, close]
It’s loud in my head,
even when I say nothing.
I feel everything too intensely
or suddenly nothing at all.
I’m not lazy, I’m not broken,
I’m overloaded.
And every day I stay here
is more work than anyone sees.
⸻
[Verse 2 — very real, everyday]
Some days I run on autopilot,
function, smile, say the right things.
Other days I can barely
shower, leave the house,
handle myself.
Sounds feel too sharp,
people too close,
everything feels wrong.
Same person.
Same body.
Just a completely different weight in my head.
⸻
[Pre-Chorus 2 — flat, honest]
They call me strong
because I somehow manage.
But they never ask
how often I almost didn’t.
⸻
[Chorus — heavier, cracked]
It’s loud in my head,
even when I’m smiling.
I carry things
that don’t come with a reset.
I fight myself every single day,
not to win,
just not to give up.
⸻
[Bridge — stripped, real]
Sometimes I don’t want advice,
motivation, or fixes.
I just want quiet.
No thinking.
No alarms.
No constant pressure in my head.
⸻
[Final Chorus — realistic, grounded]
It’s loud in my head,
but I’m still here.
Not because it’s easy,
but because I haven’t let go yet.
Maybe that’s not strength.
Maybe it’s just survival.
And today,
still being here is enough.
⸻
[Outro — very quiet]
Still here.
Still breathing.
That’s enough for today.
KernelLunar948
