Thank You, My Apartment

[ Lyrics ]

Thank you, my apartment — held me while I blew up.

Same crack in the ceiling, moonlight finds the stain,
floorboard creaks the rhythm of every silent pain.
I sat cross-legged in shadows with a half-dead phone,
writing songs about nothing — now they feel like home.
You held my tears on hardwood, never asked for more,
let me scream into pillows after studio doors.
You were small, but you were sacred — four walls, one window view,
the only witness to the moment I became someone.

Now the boxes pile like trophies, tape on every seam,
I whisper to the walls like they can hear my dreams.
You don’t need flowers or a letter — I’ll say it plain:
You held me when no one knew my name.

Thank you, my apartment — held me while I blew up.
When my voice cracked on the chorus, you caught every drop.
You kept time with every heartbeat, stayed up every night,
caught the sparks when I thought I’d never ignite.

Remember the night I played it back — 'Uploaded It at 3AM'?
You hummed along beneath my breath, the only fan.
The microwave beeped at midnight like it clapped on beat,
my laptop lit the corner where I found my feet.
You took the smoke from ramen nights, the stress sweat on the floor,
the calls with Mom that ended in quiet, trembling 'I’m okay's' more.
You didn’t flinch at the loneliness — you made it safe to ache.
You were the draft before the masterpiece.

Now I trace the paint with fingertips, memorize the light,
every stain a chapter, every echo rings so bright.
You don’t need a mention or a plaque upon my wall —
just to know you held it all.

Thank you, my apartment — held me while I blew up.
When my voice cracked on the chorus, you caught every drop.
You kept time with every heartbeat, stayed up every night,
caught the sparks when I thought I’d never ignite.

You were the cradle of the songs no one heard,
the quiet kind of courage that no one rewarded.
No spotlight, no encore — just the glow from a screen,
and the sound of hope unfolding, slow but evergreen.

Thank you, my apartment — held me while I blew up.
I’m not the girl who moved in — but I still carry stuff:
the doubt, the dreams, the voice notes full of seams,
the girl who made it real in the midst of the screams.
I blew up — but you held me…

Fridge hums its final lullaby…
I turn the key…

Thank you.