Creative moment

Just a quick post. I was browsing through my ' Notes section ' on Facebook and I came across this rather rambly, but poetic (only in my head?) piece of writing I posted like an year ago. I think I was single at the time / probably going through a rough patch / my boyfriend had disappointed me / I was tired of guys. Anyway, I quite like the way it sounds. It's in Spanish, so I'll post the original version and then a translated into English version, although I'm not sure how dramatic will it sound in English.

Yo no sé qué es amar a alguien de verdad. He oído tantas definiciones del amor. ¿ Y el mío? No consigo encajarlo en ninguna. ¿ Será que es defectuoso ? ¿ Habrá que devolverlo mientras sigue en guarantía? ¿ Estoy pasando de él, no lo percibo, o es que está huyendo de mi? ¿ Por qué lo necesito y por qué a veces me basto yo sola para sonreir ? Acaso no sabemos qué hacer de nuestras vidas si no nos convencemos a nosotros mismos que hay que enamorarnos para sentirnos plenos, para que se adjunte a la mitad de nuestro corazón otra? Un turista pasajero,eso es el amor , y nosotros le damos una visa permanente. Ni siquiera sé si habla el mismo idioma que yo. No me gusta el amor. Es demasiado egoista, te pide que cambies, que cierres los ojos ante un camino por el cual sabes que hay que caminar con los ojos abiertos. Y no te da la mano, sólo te empuja a veces, o camina delante de ti para darte un sentimiento de falsa seguridad, pero al acercarte al primer precipicio hay que valerte por ti mismo, él mantiene la cabeza en alto y los brazos cruzados. Te critica si te caes, te mira de reojo,desconfiado, si te levantas.

Querido Amor, ¿ qué es lo que quieres de mi ? No quiero ofenderte,pero...sin duda prescindiría de ti!

Translation:

I don't know what loving someone truly really means. I've heard so many definitions of 'love'. What about mine? I can't seem to enclose it in one. Could it be broken?  Will I have to take it back while it still has its warranty? Am I not seeing it, am I not perceiving it, or is it trying to escape from my grasp? Why do I need it and why am I, sometimes, enough to make myself smile? Can it be that we don't know what to do with our lives if we don't persuade ourselves that we have to fall in love to be complete, that another half has to be attached to our already existing heart? A passing tourist, that's what love is, and we give him a permanent visa. I don't even know if he speaks the same language as I do. I don't like love. It's too selfish, it asks you to change, to close your eyes before an unknown road, that you know deep down you have to walk with your eyes wide open. And it doesn't take your hand, it just pushes you sometimes, or walks in front of you to give you the false feeling of safety, but when you're close to a precipice , you have to make it on your own. He just keep his head up high and his arms crossed. He will criticize you if you fall, he will look at you defiantly if you stand up. 

Dear Love, what is it that you want from me? I don't mean to offend you, but...no doubt I'd gladly rid myself of you.