I'm quickly learning to trust no one.

It seems so definite and disparaging and yet here I am, alone in a candlelit room asking myself that same question: why depend?

I look at life as some kind of bolt of fabric.
It's rolled together all neatly until I start to try and feel my way through the fibers and then all of the possibilities that hovered just above it like words or figures over a blank page seem to unravel.
To disappoint.

I try to be that one line of selvage grasping desperately at the passionately chaotic fraying at the edge of all of this madness.
I want to hold everything and everyone together and mostly myself.

But why do people have to let go.
It's as if their holding onto a vital string goes away and suddenly I have to come up with a whole new garment, tapestry, pattern.

I'm tired.