Lyric

"I Became a Sex Worker" is a song that confronts not the act of selling one's body, but the slow erosion that comes from disconnecting emotions in order to survive.

From the opening lines-scents that won't wash off, marks left by sheets, trembling fingers counting crumpled bills-the song rejects glamour entirely.
What is depicted is not fantasy or desire, but routine: a workplace where sensations are shut down and time is exchanged for money.

The repeated line in the chorus,

"Not feeling anything became my job,"
is the core of the song.
It does not blame the narrator for numbness; instead, it exposes the system that demands emotional death as a requirement.

In the second half, words like "dignity," "rent," and the casual advice "Why don't you quit?" collide.
This contrast reveals the cruelty of easy moral judgments made by those who have exits the narrator no longer has.
On paper, there is always an escape.
In reality, that path has already collapsed.

The C-section delivers a quiet but devastating truth:
being told to leave is easy-leaving is not.

In the final chorus, the song refuses both shame and romanticization:

"Before being dirtied, I chose it myself."
This is not pride-it is self-defense.
Even if the choice isn't admirable, it is real.
Even if morning is terrifying, breathing continues.

The outro leaves one final refuge:

"This time, not bought by anyone, is mine."
A fleeting moment where the narrator reclaims ownership of herself, if only briefly.

This song does not ask for sympathy.
It does not lecture.
It simply states, with cold honesty, that a human being is alive here.

Under the name Darenimoienai, the track stands as a stark, unfiltered look at the underside of society-
quiet, brutal, and devastatingly sincere.