100%

I miss this mischief
I guess there’s less than a sliver of my childhood left, more than you’d expect
but the effect of these surroundings have found me floundering, nearly drowning
in an astonishing web of traditions, that led me to all my addictions
Allow me to make a confession, I have this obsession with happiness and general
bliss, to blind myself from loneliness and my own selfishness
Oh, how I wish upon a star, but it’s a bit too far, a bit too abstract
So I retract against that fact and get back to my urban habitat with its
disturbing lack of eye contact
That unfortunate state, which I help perpetuate and knowingly exacerbate in
order to make discomfort less prominent
But I’m still not 100%
I am complete in my incompleteness but that fails to address how much I detest
my apparent stupidness
So this repetitive self-hatred led me to these thoughts that soon will consume
my personality, until all that is left in me just happens to be confident
bullshit
A ruse that I choose to exude in order to see some improvement
But I’m still not 100%