Therapy

I've heard that everyone should go to therapy,
Someone to speak to directly,
Someone with knowledge of the brain,
And outside the situation, doesn't have the pain, or the strain.
 
I completely agree,
But you see,
It seems to me,
That I am thought of as not as good as everyone else,
Because I am not like everyone else.
 
I ask if this is true,
They say it's not, but I can't seem to tell if I believe if that's true.
I am not interested in what other people are,
Not the sports, drinking, sex, partially shaved pink hair, white rooms with burlap and grey and white chevrons culture,
Not hipster shaved heads and beards,
Not the flocks following their shepherds.
 
I am the shepherd, I am the wolf, I am the wayward paint against the grain,
I make my own path in the life of which I reign!
I feel that my differences play a subconscious role for them in my pain,
In giving them more reason for pushing me to therapy,
In the hopes of making me happy,
In being just like everyone else,
I'm trying to pick and choose my battles,
 
But I wish I could say,
That I want to stay,
And not go every one to two weeks,
To therapy, like one of the lunatics,
Or angry people.
It's not so simple,
I know that to a therapist, any slight difference, or frustration in my life,
Will be blown out of proportion, and that my life,
Is just filled with fear and strife,
And must, and can be fixed,
Can it not be mixed?
Can I feel things other than happy, excited, peaceful, and bliss?
How about neutral, tired and out-of-it, frustrated, angry, sad, ennui, melancholy, confused, unsure, anxious?
They're not that bad,
I don't want to do bad,
Like cut myself, or murder, or steal,
I just want to be me, and to be real,
To feel the entire range of emotions.
They're doing their jobs, and well too, and help a lot of people, but I'm tired of the nonsense.
 
I can't say, I don't need therapy,
It won't make them happy,
I know they won't listen,
And instead just force me to function,
The way that they want,
To be friendly with everyone, and an extrovert, constant,
And love being away from family,
And dress real ugly,
And let therapy intervene,
So as to be less of a burden,
And just wear what everyone else does,
Buy the supermarket surplus,
Have no strife with anyone,
And be liked by everyone.
 
So I will smile, and nod,
Fake it 'till I make it, and guard
My heart from their looking to fix,
Until I get a place of my own, and make it out of this matrix.