[Is Sorey a psychiatrist or a psychic? Because nowhere in there did Amal say he thought he wasn't good enough, and yet, and yet. There are nights where he doesn't sleep, and sometimes there are nights where he wishes he hadn't. Dreams where he's left by everyone he loves and cares for, even Raha, who sacrificed so much in his past life. And it always comes down to—
I'm not good enough.
He hasn't admitted these nightmares to anyone. But maybe he's just that transparent... It wouldn't be the first time someone saw through him.]
i'm not sure about all of this but i'll tell you the beginning. i think you need to hear it to understand the kind of person i am
it starts with a boy and a loaf of bread.
he steals enough to survive. there's not much more at the orphanage so he starts cutting purses from people who won't miss the coins too much. he gets really good at games, and he buys enough food to feed all the children for a week. and no one wants it because of course no one wants ill-begotten gifts but the boy doesn't know any better
then his desire to help people with that money gets them in trouble so they run away from him. and then HE gets in trouble. sixteen summers and he's thrown behind bars and written off as a lost cause. he's in and out and in and out and eventually he doesn't come out at all
do you see where i'm going with this?
i'm not mad at myself for stealing to survive. i'm mad that i had no choice and i'm mad at the people who stood by and did nothing
i know what the right thing is. i just never do it the right way
maybe you can teach tenderness, that might be true. but how do you teach mercy? i don't know what that looks like. if you call what they did to me a mercy, then i'd insist death would have been kinder
cw mentions of abuse, indentured servitude
I'm not good enough.
He hasn't admitted these nightmares to anyone. But maybe he's just that transparent... It wouldn't be the first time someone saw through him.]
i'm not sure about all of this but i'll tell you the beginning. i think you need to hear it to understand the kind of person i am
it starts with a boy and a loaf of bread.
he steals enough to survive. there's not much more at the orphanage so he starts cutting purses from people who won't miss the coins too much. he gets really good at games, and he buys enough food to feed all the children for a week. and no one wants it because of course no one wants ill-begotten gifts but the boy doesn't know any better
then his desire to help people with that money gets them in trouble so they run away from him. and then HE gets in trouble. sixteen summers and he's thrown behind bars and written off as a lost cause. he's in and out and in and out and eventually he doesn't come out at all
do you see where i'm going with this?
i'm not mad at myself for stealing to survive. i'm mad that i had no choice and i'm mad at the people who stood by and did nothing
i know what the right thing is. i just never do it the right way
maybe you can teach tenderness, that might be true. but how do you teach mercy? i don't know what that looks like. if you call what they did to me a mercy, then i'd insist death would have been kinder
these are ideals that exist for other people.