I would see the paint in its eyes. Touching all my fears while I feel the smell of that endless unhappiness I found in the deep of my darkest heart. Right your way, don't cry for a soul irreparably linked to your eternal creativity, but shout to losing senses into your nervous system, against the brain!
My poor imagination! Carry the buggage of your talent on, they'll understand what a fuckin'life-choice you've already taken to crash this savage World. Alone. As forever.
More confidential than your boyfriend's smile.
And, at the end, mayve, I'll try to love it...