I Like To Sing Poorly

I like to sing poorly.

     And I like to pretend to be an idiot. 

I like to write like shit. 

    And I like to pluck at a guitar I never really learned to play. 

I like to be a mediocre fighter who was almost good.

      And I like to paint horribly.

I like to sit on grass and read a good book and not think of it as wasting time.

    I like to cry over a tragic story.

I like to romanticize things.

   I like to believe in magic.

    And I like to rush in to save the day.

I like feeling needed. 

    I like to smoke weed because it distracts myself from myself. 

I like to escape and pass the blame. 

    I love to love, even though I am terrible at it. 

I like to think I know what to do. 

       I like to try to fix people. 

   And they hate me for it.

I like to turn a blind eye to the type of guy I really am. 

       I like to get drunk and let out everything that is bubbling up in my chest. 

I like to be a mess. 

        And I like to treat every moment in my life like a pass-or-fail test.

I guess I must like to be stressed.

The only thing I am good at is not being good at anything.

So I sing. And I write. And I fight. I cry. And I love.

Because it's better to be a terribly broken person who tries,

than a wholesome person who never does anything.

So I sing.

CH 8/6/26