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."My regrets look just like texts I shouldn't send." My heart leaps at the connection of lyrics. My depression formulates. Reality hits me all at once. "I got neighbours, they're more like strangers; we could be friends." I look deeply into myself. I'm aware that I'm hidden beneath a façade. Could they ever accept the real me? Would they still fancy me? "I just need a way out of my head. I'll do anything for a way out of my head." Forever hidden, my emotions remain. This melody brings my subconscious to the surface. My persona preventing the reality and potential felicitations; My thoughts scatter. Am I still worthy of their affections?
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Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 5:15 AM UTC
Mac Miller
."My regrets look just like texts I shouldn't send." My heart leaps at the connection of lyrics. My depression formulates. Reality hits me all at once. "I got neighbours, they're more like strangers; we could be friends." I look deeply into myself. I'm aware that I'm hidden beneath a façade. Could they ever accept the real me? Would they still fancy me? "I just need a way out of my head. I'll do anything for a way out of my head." Forever hidden, my emotions remain. This melody brings my subconscious to the surface. My persona preventing the reality and potential felicitations; My thoughts scatter. Am I still worthy of their affections?
I'm drunk and I miss being poetic. I miss Mac so much.
fuckginelle
Written by
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 5:15 AM UTC
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