don't tie me up with your love; set us free.

leaving it up to the whispering footsteps
crossing the valley with overtaking red

this is the beginning
this is the beginning
this is the beginning

i'm not ready to choke choke choke

i've got room for whispers
i've got room for you
i've got room for whispers
i've got room for you

counting pictures
counting costs
counting years i might of lost

i've heard some whispers
i've heard your sway
i've got rooms to live in
let's discover new ways to begin

And so I'm sick of these roles we play, yet I keep going at the game.  I want there to be all of this forgiveness to go around, extend, and feel the smallest extension reaching back to me, so small that I'm not even sure it's there out of honesty or to humour me and get me to shut up.

Last night I tell two of what I consider my best friends on the planet that I needed them, and they literally told me they don't feel like putting up with it and walk away.  Other people that I haven't known for very long come strolling up and talk to me with ease and the most lovely form of comfortability.

Am I friends with those two out of habit?
Do I attempt mending things because that's how I feel things should be done?

I feel like I'm finally creating some type of real sincerity with people, and it's the most frightening and difficult experience I've ever had.

In what ways do I not reach out when others seek me for help?  It feels shitty, but I can already think of so many ways, even lately.

As a side note, out of all of the people I asked to call me today (not many) and talk, none did.  However, each of those two friends that walked away did call me.  The world is so strange strange strange

And why in the hell will some people not talk about "reality" and "mortality?"  Why do the people that do talk about it with me say that I am unique and special for having my questions?  That doesn't make any sense for me.  I feel like it's to sooth me and give me some false sense of comfort.

"Reality" confuses me to no end.

What I was thinking while writing that was, "reality" doesn't exist.

What does that mean?  I don't understand so much, and I feel like these things can't be understood.  They are possibly outside the scope of human ken, or maybe I am too afraid to see the answers that could be right here in front of me.

How do atheist cope with all of these mysteries?  Do we really share such a different view on such things?  Could it be that what feels mysterious for me may be mundane or not worth thinking about for them?  Do they see my questions as groping in the dark like a lost child?

I have so many thoughts; some I am scared to speak, some I don't know what others will think once I do, and all of them I am scared of what it means once I do express them openly.

Fuck, I am scared of being alone (alone does not mean a lady friend, even though I am about to go into a questioning tangent on that), but can I exist without feeling that?  Do I want to couple because I want to run from that feeling or could there be more to it?  Could it just be some ultimate lesson; though you are alone you never will be?

How does physical human contact teach that?  How does it comfort that?

Am I seeking for patterns in chaos or could there be more to all of this?

Love me tender.