gaslight myself

[verse 1]
I’m disgustingly self-aware, it’s a sickness, not a skill
Every mirror’s a confession booth I stare into at will
Picked apart my habits ‘til they spiral and distort
Overthought my childhood like it’s evidence in court
Yeah I’ve mapped out all my motives, even ones that contradict
Held a séance with my ego just to tell it, “You ain’t slick”
Therapy notes in haiku, pain with rhythm and technique
Caught myself red-handed being toxic, didn’t speak
I’ve been both the saboteur and victim in the script
Analyzed my tendencies ‘til empathy went stiff
So before you say I’m distant or emotionally erratic
Know I logged it in a spreadsheet and assigned it somatic

[verse 2]
You think you found a weakness? That’s adorable, I’ll bite
I annotated every failure like it’s footnotes on my spite
Even kindness gets dissected, motives spun and underlined
I’ll rewrite a compliment ‘til it insults my state of mind
My apologies come layered, wrapped in guilt, embossed with shame
I’ve rehearsed my own redemption arcs and walked out just the same
I’ve scrolled through all my traumas like a cursed IMDB
Saw the plot twist comin’ — it was just another me
There’s no skeletons, they’re roommates, sipping tea and spittin’ facts
I invited them to dinner and they never once relaxed
I don’t bury things, I archive, I don’t heal, I just revise
I outgrow my coping habits ‘til they weaponize

[bridge]
This ain’t enlightenment, it’s a spotlight with no switch
This ain’t growth, it’s just neurosis with a richer inner glitch
Self-aware to the point where even joy feels like a trick
I could gaslight myself into thinking I’m not sick

[verse 3]
So what can you really tell me? That I’m cold or overthought?
That I twist affection into logic and assume it’s always bought?
I already fought that version, left it limping on the tracks
Then I dragged it home and fed it, said “We’re different now, relax”
I romanticize my ruin, I narrate my every fault
With a podcast in my psyche analyzing where I halt
This ain’t armor, it’s exposure — like a diary in flames
Where the pages fight each other just to rearrange the blame
I ain't fearless, I'm exhausted from the cycle of reflection
Where confession feels performative and penance lacks direction
So if you try to read me, bring a lantern and a map
But don’t expect redemption — just a very thorough trap