We’re always all alone,” he said, his voice cracked and worn.Tamsin shook her head. She knew that wasn’t true. She had years of proof to the contrary. “No,” she said. “Not always. Noteven often.”“Oh,” the old man said, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his being. “I forget you’re still young yet.” Hecoughed then, a dry, rattling sound. “Sometimes we get a little bit of a facade. We think we have people. Family, friends . . . butin the end, it’s just you and the darkness. Everyone leaves eventually, my young friend. It’s better, really, to learn it early. Thisway, you can save yourself some disappointment.” He sighed then and slumped back against the wall once more. “Becausebelieving you’re not alone is the cruelest trick of all.
Morgan Matson, The Unexpected Everything
life-philosophy