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We were being told that we somehow must become what we are not,
不知道为什么我们总是被灌输，我们必须变成跟自己不同的样子，
sacrificing what we are to inherit the masquerade of what we will be.
牺牲原本的自我来适应我们将要戴上的身份面具。
I was being told to accept the identity that others will give me.
我总是被要求接受别人赋予我的身份。
And I wondered, what made my dreams so easy to dismiss?
我不明白，为什么我的梦想就这么容易被否定？
Granted, my dreams are shy, because they're Canadian.
好吧，我的梦想们都很害羞，因为它们都是加拿大人。
My dreams are self-conscious and overly apologetic.
我的梦想们，它们都太难为情、太谦卑了。
They're standing alone at the high school dance, and they've never been kissed.
它们孤零零的站在高中舞会的角落，从未被人欣赏过。
See, my dreams got called names too.
你瞧，我的梦想们也被人起了外号。
Silly. Foolish. Impossible. But I kept dreaming.
傻瓜。笨蛋。异想天开。但是我一直怀有梦想。
I was going to be a wrestler. I had it all figured out.
我要做一个摔跤运动员。一切都想好了。
I was going to be The Garbage Man.
我要像垃圾搬运工一样（去摔跤）。
My finishing move was going to be The Trash Compactor.
我摔跤的结束动作也会像垃圾压实机一样。
My saying was going to be, "I'm taking out the trash!"
我的台词是:“我要把这垃圾扔出去！”
And then this guy, Duke "The Dumpster" Droese, stole my entire shtick.
然后这个人，杜克·“回收站”·卓斯，抢走了我所有的台词。
I was crushed, as if by a trash compactor.
我的心就像是被垃圾压实机压过一样沮丧。
I thought to myself, "What now? Where do I turn?"
我问自己:“怎么办？我还能做什么？”
Poetry. Like a boomerang, the thing I loved came back to me.
诗歌。我喜爱的东西像回旋镖一样又回到了我身边。
One of the first lines of poetry I can remember writing was in response to a world that demanded I hate myself.
我记得我写下的第一行诗歌，是对这个让我憎恨我自己的世界的回应。
