Waste of space

There are a variety of colors and sensations that some men employ for driving a woman crazy. There is only one that you offer me, displaying a coherent exploration of the human female misery. Whenever neuroses and obsessions, whenever you and me in the same fascination and frustration of this game I wouldn’t be in.

 I represent not only a piece of your monochromatic alterego, you are making me to signify your own and bizarre self-worth. But there’s mine too, and I have been working hard to attain optimal mind health. If so, I may suddenly notice that my efforts are not finally bearing fruit. In this stupid situation, I can’t feel my soul especially fit and strong, and there are some worse things, anything with you is perfect at all, I don’t feel I’m losing my time with you, but I lost my love.

But the darkness we create, in a strange way, makes me feel a little lightheaded.  I was working hard; I wanted to increase what it couldn’t be grower. Now I’ve found, I don’t have the restraint and the punishment to do so.  That’s because I leave, for doing my own ego, my own chaos. You know that my resources are exploited, and I’m not as strong as I thought.