[Intro] [Verse 1] The group text sits untouched upon the glowing phone display, A mundane joke I forwarded to them at noon today. The rational observer says the evidence is clear, There is a solid history of loyal friendship here. They paid my rent last August when my bank account was dry, They drove me to the clinic and they didn't question why. The mathematics of the bond amount to something real, The logical analysis is easy to reveal. There is a safety in the ledger, written out in ink, A quiet, simple certainty, regardless what I think. [Pre-Chorus] But then the typing indicator starts to animate. It flashes twice, and then it stops. It leaves me to debate. [Chorus] The brain declares, "I know," the gut screams out, "I feel." The logic is impeccable, the panic is too real. I know they love me deeply, there is proof upon the screen, But I feel like a burden that is laughed about unseen. I know there is no plot, I know there is no grand deceit, But I feel the heavy terror of the imminent retreat. It is the war between the fact and fiction in my head, A tiring, endless argument fueled entirely by dread. [Verse 2] Did you catch the slight hesitation when you walked into the room? They were laughing just a second prior, now it is a tomb. Then Sarah mentioned Saturday, a plan you never knew, A dinner reservation that did not consider you. Why did the group chat go completely quiet for an hour? Was it something that you typed that made the conversation sour? They probably possess a second thread without your name inside it, They only keep you in the first because they have to hide it. Replaying the exchange you had a week ago on Friday, Searching for the insult they were tossing in the highway Of words and casual glances, reading every single text, Hunting for the warning sign of who will drop you next. You are the last to know the news, the final one to hear, They tolerate your presence but they wish you'd disappear. [Pre-Chorus] The typing indicator starts again without a warning. "Hey, sorry, we were driving. Let us meet up in the morning." [Chorus] The brain declares, "I know," the gut screams out, "I feel." The logic is impeccable, the panic is too real. I know they love me deeply, there is proof upon the screen, But I feel like a burden that is laughed about unseen. I know there is no plot, I know there is no grand deceit, But I feel the heavy terror of the imminent retreat. It is the war between the fact and fiction in my head, A tiring, endless argument fueled entirely by dread. (Mid-tempo, building intensity, mixing the two vocal styles into a layered, overlapping argument. The voices speak simultaneously, panning hard left and hard right.) (Rational): They are busy with their lives, you are taking it to heart. (Anxious): They are pulling away slowly, they are tearing it apart. (Rational): They showed up when the engine died, they stood there in the rain. (Anxious): They did it out of pity, you are nothing but a drain. (Rational): You have to trust the people who have proven they are true. (Anxious): The silence is the proof that they are tiring of you! (Both together, volume peaking, desperate): How many times can you rebuild a bridge inside your mind, When half of you is terrified of what you're going to find?! [Verse 3] The phone goes dark upon the desk. The room is quiet now. There is no grand conspiracy, no secret broken vow. There is no hidden gathering, no orchestrated lie, Just the terrifying vastness of the social human tie. The gap between the knowing and the feeling will remain, A permanent, fixed fixture in the structure of the brain. [Chorus] The brain declares, "I know," the gut screams out, "I feel." The logic is impeccable, the panic is too real. I know they love me deeply, there is proof upon the screen, But I feel like a burden that is laughed about unseen. I know there is no plot, I know there is no grand deceit, But I feel the heavy terror of the imminent retreat. It is the war between the fact and fiction in my head, A tiring, endless argument fueled entirely by dread. [Outro] The truth is unknowable. The absolute is out of reach. You sit beside the ocean and you stare across the beach. You cannot prove they want you here, no matter how you try. You just have to take the step. You have to let the panic die. Or let it live, and walk beside it anyway. They asked if you were coming out. You type, and say, "Okay."
