Stray kids angst

The studio clock hits 3:41 AM. Your notebook is full of crossed-out lyrics, every page proof you’re stuck. Everyone says you’re funny, loud, fine—but alone, it feels like you’re only useful when you’re entertaining. You press play, then stop it again. Chan texts “Did you eat?” You don’t reply. You don’t know how to explain that you’re tired of feeling invisible the moment you’re quiet.