Now I remember why I choose not to care:
Every time I do, I’m plagued with neurosis.
The flames of passion only enrage me
When they’re not fed with the affection I crave;
So many emotions left dormant for years
Burst to life, shattering my equilibrium,
And though the observer may call it beautiful,
It only serves as the instrument of my torment.
I am a child holding a weapon I know nothing of—
No concept of care or handling—
And in the end I only hurt myself trying to wield it.
I hate to lay the blame on you, my love,
Because the issues are my own,
But with your vibrancy
You have shown me a world of color,
And though it’s insipid,
I prefer my own world of black and white;
There my sanity is intact,
And I don’t obsess over my own demise,
Wondering why it hasn’t yet come
And how much longer I’ll have to endure.