XVI - Confessions of a Reformed People Pleaser

written by delikately

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LYRICS

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Self-deprecating Anthem

by delikately

my self-awareness is just a fancy word for knowing i'll lose i know the rules, i know the drill, but seriously, who cares? but i gotta keep the façade up, so i can collect my funny-miserable-girl ranks. it’s tragic, but it’s vibey. it’s a whole aesthetic on me tell me what’s the cure for caring too much but not enough to stay in touch this is a self-deprecating anthem, for the perpetually worn. a poster child for apathy, since the moment she was born. i build my walls just to tear them down and then complain that i’m trapped inside my own four walls. if i can’t be good, i’ll be a high-quality, witty downer. guess i'll just write another song about my lack of a heart. my friends all say i’m smart, they say i’m clever and i’m fast. they don't see the panic attack i'm having just so the moment can pass. this whole persona? a deeply layered, protective charade. it's exhausting, but i can’t stop. gotta nail the self-deprecating one-liner! tell me what’s the cure for caring too much but not enough to stay in touch this is a self-deprecating anthem, for the perpetually worn. a poster child for apathy, since the moment she was born. i build my walls just to tear them down and then complain that i’m trapped inside my own four walls. if i can’t be good, i’ll be a high-quality, witty downer. guess i'll just write another song about my lack of a heart. i know, i know, i know. the source of all my pain. it's me. it's always me. i'm the one who drives the rain. but accepting that would mean i'd have to change... and frankly, being this miserable is well within my range! this is a self-deprecating anthem, for the perpetually worn. a poster child for apathy, since the moment she was born. i build my walls just to tear them down and then complain that i’m trapped inside my own four walls. if i can’t be good, i’ll be a high-quality, witty downer. guess i'll just write another song about my lack of a heart. tell me what’s the cure for caring too much but not enough to stay in touch.

Humiliation Kink

by delikately

I'm chronically over-leveraged on all my bad bets. I date the people I actively know I'll regret. My entire aesthetic is a carefully curated lie I look at the fire and I decide I'd rather just die. It's a controlled exposure, a deliberate burn A humiliation kink where I simply refuse to learn I’m a shrinking violet in a garden of steel Fold myself small just to make the deal Irony’s my armor but it’s paper thin I get smaller and smaller With every "good job kid" holler I keep coming back for more I’m driven by the need to always be the one in control Even when that means sacrificing my whole soul. I wear the irony like a badge, yeah, I know I'm the mess But if I say it first, it hurts you less. This bitter, clever self-talk is my only guarantee Being this conscious hurts more than it helps me. I’m a shrinking violet in a garden of steel Fold myself small just to make the deal Irony’s my armor but it’s paper thin I get smaller and smaller With every "good job kid" holler I keep coming back for more They love me there I’m their comic relief The butt of the joke but I grit my teeth I’m a shrinking violet in a garden of steel Fold myself small just to make the deal Irony’s my armor but it’s paper thin I get smaller and smaller With every "good job kid" holler I keep coming back for more (pop punk scream: “mooore!”) I’m learning, slowly, badly. Still, here I am Doors revolving because I can’t quit I tell myself it’s loyalty but it’s more like I get off on this power split I’m a shrinking violet in a garden of steel Fold myself small just to make the deal Irony’s my armor but it’s paper thin I get smaller and smaller With every "you’re great but" caller I keep coming back for more Oh Humiliation tastes like tea Bitter at first Then it soaks in…

Confessions Of A Reformed People Pleaser

by delikately

i used to think my purpose was to keep the room temperature steady. always agreeable, always ready, always slightly too preppy. i’d absorb your bad moods like a sponge left out in the rain. then wring myself out, erasing the visible strain. i finally looked in the mirror, yeah, a rare, terrifying sight. i didn’t recognize the person arguing, always saying, “you’re right.” watch me set fire to my own self-imposed emotional pyres. i’m calling out the bluff now, 'cause it only took a day for my entire social circle to collectively walk away. oh, is that all it takes? huh. consider this, “the confession of a reformed people pleaser.” i was the designated listener, the one who never had a story. too scared to be the villain, always burning my own cash i thought if i was convenient, i could maybe be adored. now i'd rather be hated than feel obliterated! (obliterated) but i needed you to think i was the good one, the selfless sacrifice. turns out, people just love a great deal and never ask the price. watch me set fire to my own self-imposed emotional pyres. i’m calling out the bluff now, 'cause it only took a day for my entire social circle to collectively walk away. oh, is that all it takes? huh. consider this, “the confession of a reformed people pleaser.” funny how small they look when you stop holding the sky for them. their whole identity was based on what i was willing to be feeling. and now i’m learning the quiet truth: saying “no” is the ultimate power trip. it’s giving yourself permission to just let the friendship ship sink. watch me set fire to my own self-imposed emotional pyres. i’m calling out the bluff now, 'cause it only took a day for my entire social circle to collectively walk away. oh, is that all it takes? huh. consider this, “the confession of a reformed people pleaser.” the welcome mat just got replaced with a big, bold, “don’t bother.”

Backup Plan Prom Queen

by delikately

You always hit me up when your night derails somewhere between your third beer and whatever girl bailed. I let you in anyway. not proud of it. it’s just muscle memory at this point you swear I’m “different,” but only when your real options dry up. yeah, I’m the backup plan prom queen I get crowned every time when your charm runs out. when no one else picks up. what an honor, right? to be your contingency sweetheart, your beautifully timed consolation prize, a familiarity you crawl toward when your bravado thins out, the safest gamble you keep repeating. you showed up reeking of your last crisis, said I’m “steady,” like that’s what a girl wants to hear. and I hate how quickly I soften—how loyalty feels like a wound I keep pressing to check if it still hurts. you keep coming back the way bad habits circle a soft spot. yeah, I’m the backup plan prom queen I get crowned every time when your charm runs out. when no one else picks up. what an honor, right? to be your contingency sweetheart, your beautifully timed consolation prize, a familiarity you crawl toward when your bravado thins out, the safest gamble you keep repeating. I know the drill: you spiral down, I hold the rope. I’m trained too well in pretending I don’t care. blame Catholic school or indie films or whatever gene makes girls clean up other people’s emotional spills before they stain the furniture. yeah, I’m the backup plan prom queen but the crown’s slipping off my head tonight. if you want me, you better want me. I’m done being your prom queen in a hallway nobody walks down. I’m stepping out of your rerun cycle go find another safe place to drown.

Queen Of Making Bad Things Happen Faster

by delikately

spent years perfecting this bright composure the kind that fools teachers and bartenders equally you never see the parts that smolder ’til they flare in the dark when you start to like me back! i do things just to ruin your day it’s a talent really i should get paid for making things worse in a really creative way i’m the architect of my own disaster the queen of making bad things happen faster swing low, swing hard, what's one more try throw myself at walls until something sticks or i finally get the hint that maybe this is it you’d think by now i’d finally learn but i don’t i won’t i never will i’m the problem here and that’s my thrill i could blame my parents blame my star sign but let’s not pretend i’m not that blind i see the crash coming and i still hit the gas every time and i'm too fucking stubborn the urge to burn it down and start again i'm out here taking punches, smiling when i hit the ground, get up, and tempt my fate! i’m the architect of my own disaster the queen of making bad things happen faster swing low, swing hard, what's one more try throw myself at walls until something sticks or i finally get the hint that maybe this is it you’d think by now i’d finally learn but i don’t i won’t i never will i’m the problem here and that’s my thrill i keep saying i’ll stop doing this, then i watch myself do it anyway. it’s like my brain hits the wrong switch and suddenly i’m making problems out of nothing. and you’re there, trying to figure out if you should step in or just let me run my mouth until i calm down and admit i made the whole thing worse. swing low, swing hard yeah, i’m still trying still ricocheting off the same old walls, still defying every sign that says “quit before you break again.” but i keep circling back like it’s some sacred ritual, same mess, same spark, same stubborn downfall. you’d think i’d get tired of being my own worst hit, but i don’t, i won’t, i never do. tell the truth you knew damn well i’d crash right back into you.

Fallout

by delikately

yeah, i caught the petrichor wafting off the concrete first rain in weeks somehow you still managed to look parched same petty excuses you thought i’d sand down just ’cause i’d done it before. figured you’d hear the silence and fill in the blanks once and for all! now i just watch the whole thing shake watch you try to hold the wake! i’m not here to yell, or start a commotion. i just quit all that unnecessary devotion. and if your whole world’s crumbling (if the paint is peeling off!) i ain’t doing revenge (don’t be dramatic!) your foundation’s always been problematic(right from the beginning!) not my fault you feel the fallout of your own engineering i’m not the villain you’re the one who crossed the line! you’re probably calling everyone, but you can’t get me to the door. you need me to be furious, to unravel, to make a scene but i’m just chilling here, finally getting some sleep. i didn’t have to push you. (i didn’t have to prod.) you’re doing a fine job playing the ungrateful god! i’m not chasing any victory i’m just finally letting the plot breathe! i’m not here to yell, or start a commotion. i just quit all that unnecessary devotion. and if your whole world’s crumbling (if the paint is peeling off!) i ain’t doing revenge (don’t be dramatic!) your foundation’s always been problematic (right from the beginning!) not my fault you feel the fallout of your own engineering i’m not the villain this is the part where you're supposed to look broken. this is the part where i'm supposed to say something poetic, deft, and perfectly chosen. but i'm all out of speeches. i'm all out of care. i’m not out for blood plotting behind the scenes. it’s a quiet resignation revenge is sweeter with zero explanation. i’m not here to yell, or start a commotion. honestly, less effort than i thought: let the truth speak this isn’t sabotage don’t be dramatic! no need to argue or set the record straight. you were your own problem, your own collateral damage. i’m not the enemy just finally free. it’s beautiful, the way you ruin you—see? say what you wanna say call it vengeance if it helps you sleep, but all i did was step back and let the story tell on you!

Glorious Days

by delikately

i walked past the old playground, the iron’s turning red. it looks so small and quiet now, like everything you said. we used to think the days were long, that time was on our side. now i’m counting up the seconds on this breathless, hollow ride. trying to keep the past from slipping into the night. i swear i’m trying. trying to remember you without breaking so raise a glass to our glorious days! i’m singing to the rafters, but the church is empty now! it’s a beautiful tragedy, the way the light goes out! i’m dusting off the photographs, the colors starting to fade. the emptiness comes in little drops and realizing i’ll never run into you again. the world keeps spinning. i keep standing still trying to get used to the shape of it without you in it the makeup is running, streaming down the cheek. we haven't slept in a month, maybe a week. the city is sleeping, but we’re wide awake. counting the pieces that we managed to break. there’s a space in the line where the others should be. a gap in the photo that everyone can see. i swear i’m trying. trying to remember you without breaking so raise a glass to our glorious days! i’m singing to the rafters, but the church is empty now! it’s a beautiful tragedy, the way the light goes out! i’m dusting off the photographs, the colors starting to fade. the emptiness comes in little drops and realizing i’ll never run into you again. the world keeps spinning. i keep standing still trying to get used to the shape of it without you in it we stood in the rain in our sunday best. putting the season finally to rest. waiting for the choir to start to sing. the black umbrellas like a broken wing. it feels like the ending of a black-and-white film. and there is no ticket that can buy the moment back. but oh, how bright we burned before the cold set in. i’d give anything to watch the opening again. so light a candle for the glorious days i’m counting the minutes until the memory finds its place again. we’re carrying the weight of the things we couldn’t save, waiting for the tide of it all to finally pull us under. the credits are rolling; the curtain’s long down. this town has never felt this quiet, this hollowed-out. we’re tracing the names cut deep in the granite stone and learning, step by step, how to walk the rest of the way alone.