Sitting here talking about myself
It all feels almost, well, silly
Like why would this person care?
I'm just talking about me
Sure these things happened
And maybe I feel odd once in a while
I never really thought it mattered
Just hid it all behind a smile
There are lots of people like me
(Or I guess; that's what I've heard)
I've always just wanted to be average
Disguise wrong feelings in written word
Even years after I still ask the question:
How much of it all is in my head?
I think I need this help, and it's working
Though it's so terrifying, I hide in bed

Bound securely, affixed professionally
I admit the bandages feel really nice
But they're in response to waking the past
I'm not sure I'm willing to pay this price
When I hesitate, I say I want to get better
Who doesn't want their broken leg to mend?
Somehow being honest is physically painful
I almost prefer when I had to pretend