Almost every line of Harri's poem begins with the same invitation: "Let's pretend." The speaker asks us to imagine a world where they don't care, where it's never dark, where sleep comes easily and scars fade. The list moves from small, tired details, like staring at computer screens late at night, to bigger admissions about loneliness, lying, and feeling that sadness has no clear reason, that it's just "who I am."
The repetition makes the poem feel like a weary habit, a script the speaker has recited many times. The title suggests pretending was a childhood skill, and the poem hints that it hasn't gone away. The mood is quiet, exhausted, and a little raw.
Then the pattern breaks. In the last two lines, the speaker drops the game and says, "for God's sake, / Can't we admit that we're not okay?" It reads as both a plea and a relief: the pretending has worn them out, and they want honesty, and company in it.