I once fantasized about telling you this in person. I thought I would cry, yell, and scream at the top of my lungs, but I never thought that when you really stood in front of me, I would say all this so calmly. In a nonchalant manner. You ask me why I like to wear black, white and gray clothes now, because I can't see other colors in my world. You ask me why I write, because words are black and white, and I don't have the ability to do what I like anymore.