“It took my mother nine years to finally disclose that she felt she’d seen the Devil that night, acting in him. Nine years before anyone even breathed any sort of common accord with what I’d actually experienced, and that was as far as it went. We both felt his behavior had been essentially, deeply evil. She still had no clue what the personal impact for me was, that mentally I’d felt like he’d committed a form of murder. That was the only place the thought of that ‘crime’ existed, that was the only place where what had happened that night was perceived as a crime, -in my mind. That is, until the redemptive dynamic came through in some places and in some even rarer places, acknowledged his hand in the ‘accident’, that it had been committed by someone and not accidental. In fact aside from Cave’s reference, which looks to this day like he didn’t intentionally place it, the only reference to ‘the man’ having done it, -happens to be your own. Until that came through, acknowledged in the universal awareness, there was no acknowledgment whatsoever that something terrible had happened to me. It didn’t exist until then. That made you, in effect, my sole witness. -You and a very rare few, actually possibly only two. Cave’s looks like an inspired ‘accident’. That leaves you. Losing the sense of possibility that maybe there is an existing conscious connection, losing all possibility of confirmation outside my own head, is the same as losing my witness.
This has the effect, resplendent throughout everything I have written to you, of making me wonder whether, without that, there is even any possibility of a way forward, of this growing anymore or ever being validated. It was existing in that connection, consciously, the fact that you were able to respond to my choice of you in my mind, individually, that made me feel certain that this connection did indeed exist, was conscious, and that this made us on the same side of a new form of becoming, becoming one, becoming a new connected identity. I thought I was a witness of all these things existing, to you, as you are to me. But if you are only a ‘witness’ inside your art, and you only ‘relate’ inside your art, and you have no idea or no acceptance of my existing, and you could never respond to me as if I do, suddenly you are only a witness on the inside of the connected awareness, which since it is a connectivity that exists simply through objectifying me or relating ‘to’ me, or identifying as me (first person as if they’re me), is the same as only being inside, not outside, me. I thought I could turn to you, and you to me. Turns out, you cannot ‘see’ me. You do not know I’m there. You’re only responding in. You are only a witness, inside. If you could have turned to me, I could have turned to you; I would have, at last, had a witness I could turn to. I don’t. I simply have the realm of my interior experience, and how that appears to continually relate to the exterior lyrical content, that I can point to, and that’s it. That makes you a witness I can never turn to, and I am a witness, to you, that you are only turning in, identifying in without knowing, -so you can never turn to me either.”