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“That’s the Luidaeg, singing ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls.’ In a karaoke bar. In front of other people.”
“Sometimes the places that should be home aren’t,” he said. “Sometimes there’s no one we can blame for that, and so we blame ourselves, because aren’t we the easiest targets? It’s not like anyone will come to our defense when all the loathing and finger-pointing is happening in the privacy of our own minds.”
People are complicated. That’s the problem with people. It would be so much easier if they could all be put into easy little boxes and left there, never changing, never challenging the things I decided about them.
Some wounds never really heal. They just scab over enough to let you keep on going.
Because sometimes the best intentions could lead to some very dark places, and once you were there, it could be almost impossible to find your way home again, unless there was someone willing to help you. Unless you could get there and back by the light of a candle.
