I see that everyone has problems,
That’s not the problem, see,
How am I supposed to feel sympathetically,
When I’m involved with a blinding,
Overwhelming consistency,
Of underwhelming contingencies.
Oh it’s easy, “get therapy”,
As if paying for help is worth more than a friend who will listen for free.
Who the hell wants to listen to me,
Everyone has problems,
That’s not the problem, see,
I try to imagine my mind living happily,
But it’s just stays still in progression,
And runs wild through regressions.
So what’s the point in another session,
If I will have nothing to mention.
Everyone has problems,
That’s not the problem, see,
I can’t make every conversation about me,
Everyone has an issue to share,
Or a memory to bear,
And in those moments we truly can care.
Yet it’s the time spent alone,
That makes life feel completely unfair.
If only we had a way to feel a little less scared.
SF – written on Dec. 18th, 2018 @ 4:30 p.m.
