It’s been big blob little blob,

big blob little blob.

My consciousness was once a little blob,

which I probably would’ve enjoyed more if I could have remembered.

But the time when I didn’t have a care in the world was when I was an infant.

A helpless infant, dependent on my parents, and other family members.

What would you expect from a six month old?

My consciousness is not a little blob anymore.

It’s a big blob infecting my mind.

Now I wish that I didn’t care

about what people think of me, my voice, my hair.

With insecurities and worries and overthinking,

with bad memories and worries and overthinking.

It’s been big blob little blob,

Big blob little blob.