And why didn't I let you know earlier, that I'd rather you see me jump off a cliff, than die alone twenty years down the road? That I'd rather have you sticking needles into my skin, than figure out the way to Heaven, all by myself? That I'd rather struggle forever to break free from a maze you made full of thorns and stings no one can ever escape, than sit down with a hot cup of coffee on a rocking chair, and enjoy the sunset?

So that you'll understand? That you won't go scratching your head trying to assume what I'm thinking? And what I'm doing?