In the end....everything matters.

Because our lies matched. It was a sign.

Could be my soul mate / two kindred spirits / Maybe we're not / I guess we'll never / know

Don't give up on me now. I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up?

I repeat his words in my head. What's going on? What's going on? Oh, well, since you asked, I got a bunch of tapes in the mail today from a girl who killed herself. Apparently, I had something to do with it. I'm not sure what that is, so I was wondering if I could borrow your Walkman to find out. 'Not much,' I say.

And at some point, the struggle becomes too much-too tiring-and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy... or whatever... to happen.

But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.