What Should I Do?

What Should I Do? by Kevin Abstract

A question asked three times becomes a confession. In Kevin Abstract’s song, wanting and waiting live side by side. They crave closeness, but the lines stay blurry on purpose.

Longing at Arm’s Length: The Big Idea

The meaning of What Should I Do? Kevin Abstract shows is a push-pull between desire and distance. The narrator sets a playful but strict boundary—touch is charged, yet off-limits. When they say Don’t touch me, it turns me on, the tension is the point. Wanting is safer than having.

Interpretation: The song treats restraint as its own form of intimacy. Keeping space keeps the spark alive and avoids the risk of being truly seen—or truly hurt.

Who’s Talking, and to Whom?

They speak in first person to a specific “you.” That “you” feels like a best friend and a crush rolled into one. The song frames them as partners in hiding spots and late-night rituals, which suggests a relationship that blurs lines: best-friend energy, romantic gravity.

Interpretation: The speaker may fear naming the relationship. Ambiguity lets the fantasy last longer.

What Happens: A Quick Timeline

• Liminal beginnings: they tell ghost stories through fences—together yet apart.
• Private orbit: they feel detached from the world—I’m floatin’ through space—but tethered to this person.
• Suburban escapism: they drive around this town and pretend life is handled.
• Coping loops: weed, jokes, and all-nighters try to bury feelings.
• Nature interlude: tall grass clings to them—Hitchhiker seeds in my socks—like memories they can’t shake.
• Fear of exposure: the thrill carries a risk; they hope they won’t get caught.

Each beat circles the same issue: closeness without clarity.

The Hook That Won’t Quit

The chorus lands as a spiral of fixation:

What should I do? To get my mind off of you?

Interpretation: Repetition mimics rumination. The more they try to stop thinking about this person, the more the thought returns. The question isn’t looking for an answer; it’s admitting there isn’t one yet.

Images That Do the Heavy Lifting

• Fences: a barrier you can see through. Connection exists, but rules remain.
• Space and darkness: isolation that turns their crush into the only light source.
• Night drive: freedom with training wheels—movement without a destination.
• Tall grass and burrs: desire that sticks even after the moment ends.

Interpretation: These images all describe “almost” intimacy—near, vivid, and unsolved.

Sound As Atmosphere

The production floats. Abstract’s voice sits close and hushed, while hazy textures smear the edges. The groove is steady but unhurried, echoing the drift of the lyrics. It feels like shared headphones in the backseat, the world quieting to a private signal.

Romil Hemnani is credited among the writers, a familiar collaborator from Abstract’s circle. That lineage shows in the tight structure and ear for negative space. The track favors breath and atmosphere over fireworks, which suits a story about restraint.

Desire vs. Distraction

The narrator keeps trying to “get their mind off” the crush—with substances, jokes, and motion—but the coping tricks don’t solve the root issue. The most telling line is still the boundary: Don’t touch me, it turns me on. It’s half warning, half invitation. They want the charge of closeness without the collapse that real touch would bring.

Interpretation: The song suggests that distance is its own habit. Once learned, it can feel safer than love.

Why It Feels Personal

Kevin Abstract’s writing often explores queer desire, secrecy, and the in-between—streets at dusk, cars idling, small-town corners where big feelings hide. This track returns to that zone, but lighter in tone, more playful in detail. The mix of sweet imagery and boundary-setting makes the conflict feel honest rather than tragic.

Other Ways to Read It

• Interpretation: A queer-crush portrait. The fear of being seen meets the thrill of being wanted. The chorus is the mind’s loop when feelings outgrow labels.
• Interpretation: A self-control study. The high comes from not crossing the line. The rituals—late drives, grass stains—are how they feed the feeling without breaking the rule.
• Interpretation: Creative paralysis. The “you” could be the work itself; the question marks the artist’s cycle of distraction and return.

The Takeaway

The meaning of What Should I Do? Kevin Abstract offers is simple and sticky: distance can electrify desire, but it can’t resolve it. The song holds that charge and lets it hum—a summer night that refuses to end.

Disclaimer: This is an interpretation based on the officially available lyrics and public context. Listeners may reasonably read it in other ways.