Will I ever stop feeling stupid?

Will I ever stop getting hurt?

Is there something wrong with me?

Or is there something wrong with the world?

The things I don't think about

The things I ponder on for hours

The things I didn't even get to choose

Still end up being something to be upset about

For every problem solved there's a worse one

Every good thing turns into something I dread

And I'm so good at playing the victim

But it's me who's been making the bed