Just a Guy in a room

Spoken word rap, indie rap, progression, and a calm downward spiral at the end

(Audio cue: The heavy, rhythmic click of a mechanical keyboard. A deep, nervous breath. The clearing of a throat.)
(Spoken, fast and slightly stumbling)
Yeah. So, uh... I hit start.
The little red dot goes live.
And I’m just... I’m just sitting here, man.
I don't wanna be a famous streamer. I really don't!
Like, the thought of a million people watching me breathe makes my stomach do backflips.
But... I still stream. Every single night.
And I often wonder, you know?
Like, do I only do it to be anti-social in the real world?
Is this just a glowing, digital brick wall I built to stay in my comfort zone?
Because out there, everything is loud and unpredictable, but in here...
In here, I can be as free as I let myself be.
Safe. Behind the glass.
But God, I like the conversation.
I really do.
Even if a message only pops up in the chat every once in a while.
It’s like a little ping from outer space saying, "Hey, I see you."
And that’s enough.
(Voice rises, getting more passionate, hands gesturing wildly)
'Cause I'm not a famous streamer!
I'm just a guy who hits start!
I’m just a guy who likes to play with buttons, and mess with settings, and try to make some form of art!
Or maybe...
(Voice drops, self-deprecating laugh)
Maybe I'm just crazy.
Just a crazy guy, alone in my room.
Sometimes talking to myself for hours and hours with a camera pointed directly at my face, playing my favorite game.
Just narrating my own loneliness to a blank screen.
(Tempo slows down, getting intense and introspective)
But there’s this thought. This weird, intrusive thought.
That someday... I may see the masses come.
Thousands of numbers on a viewer count, flooding in to watch me talk to myself.
Right here. In this exact room.
Where I’ve just been sitting, quietly waiting...
Waiting for an unattended DOOM.
Like the world is gonna end, or my youth is gonna fade, and I’m just waiting for the crash while staring at a monitor.
(Gasping for breath, voice cracking, screaming the next part with frantic energy)
AND WHEN THEY ARE THERE... WILL I EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY?!
WILL I ENTERTAIN THEM?!
WILL THEY EVEN THINK OF COMING BACK?!
Or will they just see right through me?! Will they see the panic?!
(Sudden silence. The frantic energy drops instantly into a quiet, vulnerable whisper.)
...They probably won't come back.
And that's okay.
'Cause I'm not a famous streamer.
I'm just a guy in front of a screen.
Who might...
Just be talking to himself.
(Long pause)
Yeah.
(The sharp click of a mouse button turning the stream off.)

2534/7500

(Audio cue: The heavy, rhythmic click of a mechanical keyboard. A deep, nervous breath. The clearing of a throat.) (Spoken, fast and slightly stumbling) Yeah. So, uh... I hit start. The little red dot goes live. And I’m just... I’m just sitting here, man. I don't wanna be a famous streamer. I really don't! Like, the thought of a million people watching me breathe makes my stomach do backflips. But... I still stream. Every single night. And I often wonder, you know? Like, do I only do it to be anti-social in the real world? Is this just a glowing, digital brick wall I built to stay in my comfort zone? Because out there, everything is loud and unpredictable, but in here... In here, I can be as free as I let myself be. Safe. Behind the glass. But God, I like the conversation. I really do. Even if a message only pops up in the chat every once in a while. It’s like a little ping from outer space saying, "Hey, I see you." And that’s enough. (Voice rises, getting more passionate, hands gesturing wildly) 'Cause I'm not a famous streamer! I'm just a guy who hits start! I’m just a guy who likes to play with buttons, and mess with settings, and try to make some form of art! Or maybe... (Voice drops, self-deprecating laugh) Maybe I'm just crazy. Just a crazy guy, alone in my room. Sometimes talking to myself for hours and hours with a camera pointed directly at my face, playing my favorite game. Just narrating my own loneliness to a blank screen. (Tempo slows down, getting intense and introspective) But there’s this thought. This weird, intrusive thought. That someday... I may see the masses come. Thousands of numbers on a viewer count, flooding in to watch me talk to myself. Right here. In this exact room. Where I’ve just been sitting, quietly waiting... Waiting for an unattended DOOM. Like the world is gonna end, or my youth is gonna fade, and I’m just waiting for the crash while staring at a monitor. (Gasping for breath, voice cracking, screaming the next part with frantic energy) AND WHEN THEY ARE THERE... WILL I EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY?! WILL I ENTERTAIN THEM?! WILL THEY EVEN THINK OF COMING BACK?! Or will they just see right through me?! Will they see the panic?! (Sudden silence. The frantic energy drops instantly into a quiet, vulnerable whisper.) ...They probably won't come back. And that's okay. 'Cause I'm not a famous streamer. I'm just a guy in front of a screen. Who might... Just be talking to himself. (Long pause) Yeah. (The sharp click of a mouse button turning the stream off.)

0/500