Every fiction has its base in fact.
Because I understand all the ways of trying to escape, how sometimes you escape one prison only to find you've built yourself a different one.
Everyone has hardship in their life. Everyone has pain.
I realize then that it's not enough to know what someone is called. You have to know who they are.
Stains are even worse when you're the only one who can see them.
But I'd do it again. I know that now. I'd make that promise a thousand times over and lose her a thousand times over to have heard her play last night or to see her in the morning sunlight. Or even without that. Just to know that she's somewhere out there. Alive.