[Intro] First day with an addiction counselor. I’m wary on telling this shit. Especially ’cause the psychiatrist already completely ignored me. [Verse 1] So I’m sitting in this chair, another room, another face. Another person asking questions like they already know the case. “What brings you here?” What the fuck do you think? You want the truth in pieces or the whole thing in ink? I don’t like talking about it. Not ’cause I’m scared to say it. I just fucking hate explaining every fucked-up way I made it. I’ve been through enough questions from people who don’t listen. Had my words fall on deaf ears, watched concern turn to dismissal. So don’t expect a clean confession. This shit ain’t neatly packed. You’re asking me to open doors I spent years keeping latched. [Hook] First day, same damage, different room, different chair. I’m not looking for attention. I’m looking for something there. I don’t need another lecture. I don’t need another stare. If you’re gonna ask me what’s wrong, then fucking listen when I share. [Verse 2] I can tell you what I use. I can tell you when it started. I can tell you what it does when my head becomes a target. But the addiction ain’t the story. It’s a symptom of the shit. There’s a graveyard in my head full of things I never fixed. And the psychiatrist already looked straight through what I said. So now I’m sitting with a stranger trying not to waste my breath. I’m not fragile. I’m fucking damaged. There’s a difference you should know. I’ve survived enough shit already to know exactly how this goes. [Bridge] You want honesty? Then don’t flinch when it gets ugly. Don’t reduce me to a habit. Don’t pretend you fucking know me. I’m not here to be your project. I’m not here to play along. I’m here because something’s broken and I’ve been dragging it along. [Outro] First day with an addiction counselor. I still hate talking about this shit. Not because I can’t handle it. Because I’m tired of telling people what happened just to find out they weren’t listening.
