Yes, there are many things I regret:
The airs and graces,
The waving of arms,
The shouting,
The blatant exhibitionism,
The always having to be in on it,
In the limelight, or if not the actual centre of attention,
Then as near to it as I could get.
But I was different from the others,
You see, I never pretended,
I never faked it, it was just...me.
I was always like that, even in primary school.
Perhaps I was just hyperactive,
Or suffering from some strange kind of mania;
At any rate, I’m retired now, and I shan’t return, ever,
But in all honesty, you can’t call me a poseur,
Not really.
I wasn’t like the others, I couldn’t help it,
It was just...in my blood,
What I mean is, it was natural with me, unforced,
And if it’s natural, it’s not posing, is it?
I never faked it, not once!
Sometimes I think about the others,
And when I do I often wonder if they were all of them putting it on,
Or if many of them were in actuality much the same as me.
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