The reason I bring you down, saying things like, “Leave me alone.”, is because hurting you at regular intervals allows the darkness to pull me in.

Amid light so bright it’s been overexposed, I can’t quite make you out…

The place known as despair exists beyond our imagination – nothing more than a deep, deep, blackness… a tiny little place from which I can manage to not miss the tiny light that is you.

But faced with kindness, I’ll grow weak again…
I’ll end up wishing for you to, “Love me.”…
I’ll end up yearning for you to say, “You’re not alone.”!

Taking strong measures under the impression this mustn’t be allowed, I’m doing all kinds of foolish things…
And once I do away with the parts of me that are honest, I’ll lose track of who I even was.

Don’t the words “I love you.”, and morning kisses, become nothing more than salutations once we grow used to them?
But amid days that shine so bright they’ve been overexposed, we’re unable to notice…

The place known as despair produced a synergy that reminded me;
Mere recollection seems to be achieving an afterimage effect:

Open your eyes,
And you’ll be in tears before this “present time”.
That nostalgic phrase: “Love me.” will be something you long for.

Because you’re here, I’m still just as weak as I was before…
I can even honestly wish for you to, “Love me.”…
And I come to the conclusion that, “I’m happy like this.”