trying to collapse the tunnels behind me

And this illusion is almost as weary as I am. My soul hangs heavy and mere distractions are the only means of escape from this feeling.
When everyone turns to you, where do you go when it is your turn to be set spun in your own worries? How do you pull off being that faulty hero?
As that flawed gem would, I will also burrow to the bottom of the chest. To lay among fellow impurities, peers, is bliss. To be accepted, to just blend, is divine.
I am not burying myself fast enough, however, as I feel their grip tighten around my ankles. Progress slows, halts, and reverses. Being ripped back and laid upon this Earth, so, that I will never escape those eyes, those burdens.

And to fight only provides

inspiration for the masses,

And to give up only provides

a new direction for the masses.

So, tell me.

In a world where all my actions are right,

why do I feel so wrong?