Existentialism and Self-Loathing in Korea

What do you you do when nothing feels real anymore?
The music you loved is fake.
The love you felt evaporates.
The life you led is empty.
They said, "you bleed just to know you're alive"
But would that prove anything?

I'm bleeding, but no one's going to see it.
And if I see it, that doesn't mean anything.
Bleeding a life dry that feels lost
That feels like clockwork
Doesn't feel like life
So I'll bleed it out,
Til I reach some break
Til there's nothing left but who I am.
Til I gasp for breath at the cost of every superficial
Fake, unreal, unknown, unfathomable
Smirking, charming, mockery that is my face.

Am I even ready for that?
I'm not sure what I'd do if I knew who I was,
Knew that the rest of the world was real,
Knew that they could really see me.

Useless rambling.
If you exist, and they do too,
That doesn't mean that it's possible
Doesn't mean there's more to me
Than the smiling face of a fortunate man.

Why do you hate him?

Isn't this ego and id?
This is what we do, right?
I mean,
Everyone else that lives, that breathes,
That's real,
Does this too, right?

And I wonder how many other people
Are really self-aware
Are really concious, the way I feel now.
And how could I know,
When this is the only part we can never see?

Why do you hate him?
What do you do when he feels artificial?
How can I be real?