Everyday has its own beginning.
Beginning the same as the day before.
I close my eyes and whisper softly,
wishing for a bit of change to find me soon.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I hate change even more.

I spend my endless days filling my notebook.
Writing formulas and jotting down notes.
Most days, I'm just mindlessly writing,
not understanding a word of anything I had wrote

My mind is wired differently from my peers.
Full of cynical thoughts and ludicrous ideas.
But my brain refuses to slow down or stop,
it's been relentlessly spiraling year after year.

I wish for these mundane days to change,
but I have yet to try for myself in exchange.
I'm still the person that I've always been.
Scared to open my eyes and see for myself,
the new person who lives from within.

Haunted by my withered reflection,
mimicking every piece of my own.
Until my image was twisted and shifted,
switching it's gaze into a piercing glare.
Staring straight through the depths of my soul,
there's no one else who can compare.