When I am walking down the street and I hear people starting to laugh, I know that they are laughing at me. Is my hair wrong? Is my zipper undone? Do I look weird? Or was I singing to myself again.

When I meet people, I’m awkward. I want to be liked, but I’m a strange kind of different. I often feel that I need to be “that person” in order to fit in or be liked. Sometimes I feel like I’m too normal or whatnot. Let me tell you. It is stressful.

My name is currently Aleczander Lourd Maverick and I suffer with MDD. (That is not Mother Against Drunk Drivers for the record).

I’m talkin’ to myself in public, dodging glances on the train
And I know, I know they’ve all been talkin’ about me
I can hear them whisper, and it makes me think
There must be somethin’ wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinkin’, somehow I’ve lost my mind
But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know, right now you can’t tell
But stay a while and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me