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Maybe ignorance isn’t a vice, but a reprieve. And a reprieve into ignorance is something I’ve done myself, many times.
After all, I’ve been lying to myself for years. Pretty lies cover up a lot of ugly truths.
The truth … Such a complicated thing. The problem with truths is that they’re like spices. Add a little, and it can enrich things, let you experience more layers. But if you pour out too much, it becomes unpalatable.
“We’re all captives of something, even things we don’t want to admit to.”
“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “things need first to be ruined in order to then be remade.”
“Can I give you some advice, Gildy?” I shift on my feet. “Umm … sure.” “Own your shit.”
“You’re what you choose to be,”
“Some would say that they don’t deserve your kindness,” Keg points out. I shake my head, watching the ground as we go. “Kindness shouldn’t have to be earned. It should be freely given.”
