If you could know what I know, what would you say?

Would you tell me that I’m crazy? That I think too much? That the world is upside down? Perhaps it’s all true.

Could you comprehend how I feel or understand what I think? Would you tell me that you were sorry, or that I was simply naive?

Sometimes it feels as if there is so much to say, so much to tell, so much to express. At what point does ignorance become happiness?

All I want is for you to know.