Feasting on my own happiness

Give me sorrow and bitterness, and you get sorrow and bitterness.

Give me love and affection, and you get... sorrow and bitterness. I'm actually surrounded by beauty and bliss, and can't cast out anything else but bleakness. What I do is absorb this happiness so intensively that nothing is left to the outside world. I am selfish with my happiness, are you going to tell me you are not? It's not that I can't make something beautiful out of bliss, but I like bliss in its pure, raw state and not stained by words.

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