I had something of a brilliant nature that I wanted to post about earlier. It is all but forgotten, now. Something about how someone once posed the idea of taking a risk as eating a rainbow that MIGHT give me cancer: I could either eat a rainbow and have my life filled with delicious colours and happiness (and maybe some cancer), or I could live my life in shades of grey and blandness.

Well then.

Of course I want to eat rainbows and be happy and experience tastes and colours AND THEN LATER SUFFER A SLOW, AGONIZING DEATH IN AN EVER-BLACKENING LANDSCAPE WHERE EVERYTHING TASTES LIKE ROT.

Anyone in his right mind would want that.
Except me. Because I am not in my right mind, and would prefer to spend my time in a world of blue-greys and silver-greys and eternally interesting shadows, where I can make an end of it when it suits me and not have it forced on me with the removal of one after another of those brilliantly scintillating colours.

All the difference in the world between the two.