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one thing Parisa had come to learn was that other people’s view of her said far more about them than it ever did about her.
I won’t forgive anyone else who makes me ask myself if I deserve to live.”
Not many people actually understand what they really are,
He understood his own, that he felt everything because he wanted terribly, with all of his being, to feel nothing. Because to feel nothing would be to finally no longer feel pain.
He had thought Libby was his existential crisis, but she meant more to him than just that, didn’t she? She wasn’t just the cause; she was part of it somehow. A piece of something his stupid brain couldn’t figure out. She, he decided, was the reason he couldn’t access his full powers. She was gone, and so long as she remained gone, there would always be something missing from him. His … goodness? His morality? Something critical. Something he didn’t understand.
This was just the world. You trusted people, you loved them, you offered them the dignity of your time and the intimacy of your thoughts and the frailty of your hope and they either accepted it and cared for it or they rejected it and destroyed it and in the end, none of it was up to you. This was just what you got. Heartbreak was inevitable. Disappointment assured.