Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Unsure where they were going with this, Maea nevertheless obliged and considered again. That one was harder, less easily defined. "I think... There are times when it's not? I think there are those who become that way because they have a sickness of the mind. And other times monsters are made, created out of circumstances of their upbringing, the environment they live in. Getting tired of my own words
"But... I don't know. No matter how sick one is, or how hard it's been, or how good it feels, there should be an element of choice somewhere. Whether you allow yourself to give in to impulse or not, whether you set those needs above the safety of everyone else, whether you put yourself in a position where you can act on them or not... Ultimately I think a monster is a monster because somewhere they stopped trying not to be, in which case it is, or because they were pushed past the ability to make that choice, in which case it is not."
Perhaps that was a harsh take. Reaching over to wrap Elizabeth's hand with the towel, Maea kept turning the question over in her mind, searching for some other way to see things. But in the end, that was what she believed.
Tying a knot and tucking in the ends of the improvised bandage like how Isla had taught her once upon a time, she sat back in her chair. "There. Is that better?"
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
