Syndrome Song

I am in constant desire to find somewhere new

Far from established friends and familiar eyes

I want to be an unknown, then I could be anything

It's so hard I find to introduce my new self to known friends

A new obsession or hobby seems incompatible with their minds construction of me, instead I bury it, waiting until they are not near

If I had learned to sing or write or garden I know an enchanted nervousness would have overcome me

I am the traitor, not the boy they knew or saw but one detached from their conceptions of him

I know it's silly, I should feel free to grow and know that those I hold so close would encourage me only, not demean

Still I cannot

I'll collect my pieces of obsession and scars of growth inside my shell, waiting until all sentiments of familiarity are absent in the people I see

So that I might show them a refined version of myself that will pretend to always have been

And I'll leave myself behind, all you will see are the repressed desires and aspirations I will manifest into