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.