Right. Shoulders back. Chin up. Lovely. You look like a man Who knows what he’s doing. Do I? No idea. I ironed my shirt, I practised my smile, I’ve been somebody else For a little while. Got all of my lines And my exits rehearsed, If pretending was fitness I’d be medically cursed. I’ve mastered the art Of the “Yeah, I’m alright,” And the laugh that arrives At exactly the right time. Got a head full of weather, A pocket of dread, And a tiny unpaid intern Living rent-free in my head. He’s doing very well. Thank you, I think. He’s absolutely fine. That’s what I’m wearing. It matches the sink. There’s a little backstage Where I hide all the mess, With a sign on the door saying PLEASE DON’T DISTRESS. I’ve got jokes in my pocket, Got a grin on my face, And a fire exit plan For the middle of a conversation. I’m getting into character, Everybody clap! I’m the king of looking normal With a panic attack. I’ve got excellent manners, I’ve got nothing to say, I’m the life of the party Who’s rehearsed his escape. Oh, I’m doing fantastic, Look at me, what a star! If you need me, I’ll be hiding In the bathroom, near the bar. I’m getting into character, I know all the lines, It’s a wonderful performance For a terrible time. I’ve got seven different versions Of the person I could be, There’s the one who says he’s happy And the one who disagrees. There’s the charming one at dinner, There’s the ghost who doesn’t call, There’s the bloke who says “No worries” While he’s worrying about it all. I’ve been nodding at a sentence For a quarter of an hour, Like a houseplant in a meeting That’s been given too much power. And I smile at the mirror Like we’re old friends from school, Then we both avoid the subject Of who’s fooling bloody who. He’s exhausting. They’re both entitled to an opinion. There’s a little backstage Where the real me sits alone, Reading old conversations On a cracked mobile phone. I keep saying “It’s nothing,” I keep saying “I’m good,” I’ve become so convincing That I almost believed I could. Could what? Keep this up. There’s a little backstage Where the real me sits alone, Reading old conversations On a cracked mobile phone. I keep saying “It’s nothing,” I keep saying “I’m good,” I’ve become so convincing That I almost believed I could. Could what? Keep this up. I’m getting into character, Everybody clap! I’m the king of looking normal With a panic attack. I’ve got excellent manners, I’ve got nothing to say, I’m the life of the party Who’s rehearsed his escape. Oh, I’m doing fantastic, Look at me, what a star! If you need me, I’ll be hiding In the bathroom, near the bar. I’m getting into character, I know all the lines, It’s a wonderful performance For a terrible time. The funny thing is… I don’t even know When I started doing it. Somewhere between “How are you?” And “Fine, thanks.” Somewhere between Being the funny one And being the one Who couldn’t tell you He wasn’t laughing inside. I keep waiting for somebody To notice the difference. Then somebody asks if I’m alright… And I say, “Yeah. You?” Maybe tell them. Yeah. Maybe tomorrow. Tell somebody. It’s alright. Drop the act. You don’t have to nail it. You don’t have to nail it.
