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Your world is not what you thought. You are not breaking. You are adapting. It feels much the same but it is only a shift that will make you able to bear what comes next.
Justice is a horrible thing. But it is also right in the way that sunlight is right and the thick veins of rock that run through the earth are right.
Anxiety is a worm that eats through my bones, constantly there, reminding me that all is not well one bite at a time.
It seems like every time he speaks it goes deeper and deeper into my heart, stripping me down by layers as it seeks the very core of who I am.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we’re all wrong. Life and death – what are they? I can claim neither for myself anymore. We are feathers in the wind, but we are also heavy of heart and burdened of soul. What we are, who we are – can we really know before the story is over?
But I cannot become corporeal without violence. “Then love me violently.” That, my sweet mortal girl, I will never do. For you are my treasure and it is my solemn purpose to keep you safe and treasured.
