B (on social media): I love this album, No Faith in Strangers
A: No Faith in Strangers. Did you want to talk about this motif? I’m figuring out why we trust the strangest strangers. It’s because they are vulnerable.
B: It’s an album title.
B: Fuck you.
Commentary is the Catalyst that makes Cannon possible. The looking back and finding out why if not true. It’s not true that I want this person to eat shit and die, but I feel like that because it was a waste of my time to ask the long question only to get the short answer. No one likes that. It’s a form of mental love rejection.
Friends? I seem to ask. “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is my response. That used to hurt so I invented a world where I could retreat. A safe world where “friends” didn’t matter. I had books. It wasn’t enough. They didn’t understand. There was no back and forth that implies understanding.
It was okay. I knew that it was a book and it would never get me like a “real person.” I knew that I could be my own best friend, but not right away. I had to figure out who I was and who I wasn’t. Who I wasn’t would then be my friend.