My voice of cryptic reason,

Your infinitely inexhaustible insight is indubitably interesting. You keep my mind tethered to the center of a centrifugal force that is the world. 

I'm realizing all my best friends, my most loyal confidants are the voices in the music that fills the space between overpowering silences that threaten to consume me. I look for a lover, a friend, a purpose, an impetus, a mantra for my life; Music has it all if you're listening carefully to the right things. It has held me more consistently when I break than any individual I've ever known ever could. The lull of the melody and the soothing rapture of the singer's voice hold me tighter than any arms I've ever known. A rather dejected glam-rock Brian Warner once assured me: "We love the abuse because it makes us feel like we are needed." 

While this is true on many levels, the music in this case could be the abuse I so love because I KNOW I am needed to hear it; otherwise, what would be the point in making music?

I torture or rejuvenate myself depending on what I listen to.

I think that in many ways, on many levels: we are products of our big, impersonally interconnected world. I am simultaneously at odds and in love with the status quo of technology and her potential. While it enables us to be available and connected to anyone, anything, anywhere, it cuts off other potential outlets of communication that may or may not be later deemed necessary. Though I cannot put my finger on it and google search results are  inconclusive, something absolutely necessary feels missing.

While it can be very informing and oftentimes therapeutic, the internet still leaves me feeling altogether unfulfilled and even more isolated. Wasn't it enough that I was born to think and behave in this way; that circumstances beyond my control left me a broken, trembling shell of humanity? Now I've only to retreat to the vast impossible expanse of my own mind or the equally vast isolation of the internet, which does in fact, contain the universe and all variations thereof; the latter of the two being my more recent preference, by far. In addition to anything I could ever want to see or hear, it is also where I find you, my dear. 

 

The cold sterile gaze of the monitor illuminates only me, in the places I retreat to so often to worship the universe with her. She shows me things I never could have imagined to be possible; beautiful tortured and broken things. That mad mad world I see all around me is reflected and magnified inside of me. The world I inhabit has left me feeling like a tortured genius, crouching in the darkest corners of a tall lonely tower that looms so high and impressive over the rest of the world. My perceptions of the world and perception of my own perceptions have not changed much over the years. I can see further from my lonely tower and more clearly than ever before, but all the other lonely people I see look the same. They still look so lonely.

It makes me feel less lonely, to see them without being seen. Like God, who I trust to be there: inside of me. 

My faith is like a diamond the size of a refrigerator, buried in your backyard, love.

Trust that it will always be there safe within you.

All of my love to you and our .8-th of a child,

~be⋅wil⋅dered

-adjective

1. To confuse or befuddle, especially with numerous conflicting situations, objects, or statements. 

2. To cause to lose one's bearings; disorient.

Etymology:  be- "thoroughly" + archaic wilder "lead astray, lure into the wilds."