Fearless Sims's "Stupid" is only two sentences long, but it holds a whole tangle of feelings. The speaker can't let go of "the idea of us," a relationship that either ended or never quite began. The title is the first clue to how they feel about themselves: they think it's foolish to keep holding on, and they're hard on themselves for it.
What makes the poem interesting is the question at its centre. The speaker isn't only asking whether they still want this person. They're asking whether they want the person or just want to believe it could still happen. Those are different things. One is love or longing, and the other is hope, maybe even stubbornness. The speaker can't tell which is driving them.
The mood is quiet, restless, and a little raw. There's no answer and no resolution, and the question mark hangs in the air. That makes it feel like a private thought caught mid-spiral, the kind many people have had late at night.