Who am I?

Qualitative. beautiful, imaginative, vivid... Yet... Escapes the boundaries of my comprehension. Quantitative. Structured, concrete. Some would say dull but it's the perfect foundation for me. To build the symmetrical home in my brain. The fireplace lets out a steady, constant rate of heat. My bedroom has just enough. One mattress, two pillows, one sheet. All these numbers dancing in my head. Not even mentioning the blue, the yellow, the red. You see, qualitative data has been neglected in my mind for some time. My life seems to twist all possibilities of subjective perception into an objective conception. They said I had to qualify but to attain it with a number. A paradox that haunts my dreams and disrupts my slumber. My performances are quantifiable, physical, indisputable... Comfortable.. Only those with a faster time, can beat me to the finish line. I live in a world I can see and prove, it's so familiar to me. Qualities don't even seem to be necessities, Admittedly, quantities are my constant fantasies. I dream in numbers, while laying in bed. Everything's a science, there's always a method. It explains everything, like why the wind blows and why the sky's blue. But... it doesn't explain things like why you kiss me the way you do. Nor how you feel so intimate, yet so new. Honestly, I can't cram these emotions into quantity. So maybe I was wrong, maybe quality, brings clarity, I guess this poem is an attempt, to put an end to this scarcity.