A little-known fact about me: I read all the time.

It's hard to imagine a place like that really exists. People have been judging me my whole life.

Mortals. Everything is so black and white to you.

There was a curse. There was a girl. And in the end, there was a grave. I never even saw it coming.

There are no coincidences.

There is a point. I don't know what it is, but everything I've had, and everything I've lost, and everything I felt—it meant something.

surrounded by strangers who love me (un)strangers made strange by pain