what if i told you this was really me? what if i told you this was as good as i got? some good days and the rest of them like this. that this IS me.
what then?
that i'm not above disease. that i'm not beyond defect. that i'm not a perfect machine (let alone one in decent, running order)
that i really am damaged goods. that i really am a broken toy.
what then?
am i still lovable?