You are a funny thing

Aren't you? Days of idyllic feelings of "just right, just good" brought by a couple of words, then three new words bring it all down, you see your solid castle as it is: a structure of cards easily destroyed. You try not to think it is and you tell yourself the cards are blocks of concrete and change your mood to cold indifference when you are very far from that. You know you turn to acid and will do some damage, and you don't care now. You know the name of your emotions and you fear to even think about them and you know that makes them jump higher. You tear up and scold yourself for your petty motives, the absolutely petty reasons it all comes from. You hate the uneasiness it brings, most of all. You fight it in ways you know are not going to help. You want to change your immediate past, you know you can't, you refuse to let go, you boast in your own negativity. You are hopeless, clueless, sad and you tell all this to yourself, you write it down for yourself, you call yourself "you" in an attempt to exorcise your feelings, and you know how useless it is. But you do it anyway, you funny little thing.