I found pleasure in her pain, I discovered laughter in her tears and her loss brought me euphoria.
How sick. These eyes never seek a complete picture, this soul never yearns for a happy ending.
How senile, though unaffiliated with old age, my mind seems to deteriorate with every thought.
How hysterical, where do I find the time to summon all this sadness, amongst all this happiness?
How pitiful, stray clear from a mental disorder, I myself am just mentally disorganized.
