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I guess it never occurred to her that she might be able to function in reality if she could just get over her self-effacing transference.
She’s always wanted to forget her own wretchedness, even if only for a second. She couldn’t have made it this far without constantly identifying with other people.
It doesn’t bother me that I’m not going to see them anymore, not even a little. Different kinds of people belong in different kinds of worlds. And, lucky enough for me, mine’s a world within reach.
The difference, though, is that with Hell at least you know what you’re getting. But with Heaven, everything’s ambiguous. There are no actively good feelings, just a passive, ambiguous contentment.’
