I know they think I’m strange.

I don’t dress up much and I don’t go to Starbucks and I don’t talk to people about things that suck.

But what they don’t know about me tho, is how much I feel their pain and the low frequencies in their body, and I see how they just fake being happy.

They pretend they like Starbucks, even though the coffee sucks.

And they pretend they like going to their meetings, but they really just wanna chill and Netflix.

And they pretend they wanna chill and Netflix but, they really just wanna have good sex.

And they pretend they have good sex, but they don’t really have that passionate connection.

The kind of connection their soul wants…

But they’ll never stop and slow down to realize that they aren’t really being themselves.

They aren’t really satisfied and they will forever chase time, and money, and things that don’t really make them happy, and I’m just like, whatever-man, do your thing.

I’m much happier being me, than I am when I’m pretending to be happy…whatever that means;

I told you I was strange.