It’s easier to look convincing
when nobody asks what you’re convincing them of.
I Smile At Strangers turns its attention inward, following someone who can still perform the ordinary rituals of being fine while privately losing faith in the person performing them. Guilt, compromise and self-deception accumulate behind a socially acceptable face until the real conflict is no longer between the narrator and the outside world, but between who he appears to be and what he knows about himself.
Quiet hums, Dark pulses, whispers beneath the surface
I see the cracks inside my own reflection
Lie to myself just to hold my place
Every promise I make dissolves in my hands
I whisper “I’m fine” while the guilt eats my face
I smile at strangers, bow to their eyes
I’m choking in silence, built on disguise
I rot from the inside, can’t tell who I am
The mirror knows all, I’m my own worst scam
Every choice I defend, every word I bend
I’m collapsing in corners where no one pretends
I step over morals like they’re broken glass
Trading pieces of me for what will last
The lies I tell myself are louder than screams
A saint in daylight, a shadow in my dreams
I’ve been my own predator, hunting in my skin
Chasing the echoes of the man I’ve never been
I rot from the inside, can’t tell who I am
The mirror knows all, I’m my own worst scam
Every choice I defend, every word I bend
I’m collapsing in corners where no one pretends
Fading pulses, whispered regrets, silence closing in