you keep talking about how eager you are for your inpatient to start, and admittedly I have flashes of pride for that day as well, but peppered with sorrow. Yesterday you finally asked to be ‘let in’ and I think you found why I was able to hear your pain when you spoke of your dark place. You started to see you weren't as alone there as you thought. Today, I feel you watching me just a bit closer, as you realized some of my motives for protecting those I love. I ask them to stay because I know their darknessi ask them to stay, because it gives me a reason to stay. I can't answer my dark calling when others around me aren't answering theirs. It's the life-lock I need to keep pushing forward.
You've promised me 50 years, after which we'll see how things are going. You in turn have asked for that same 50 in return; I grumbled then, but it is only fair. What years you hold true, I will likewise. It's a promise I never gave another, I only ever asked people to stay. I suppose it could be seen as a flaw on my part not to reciprocate such a promise, but I was never important enough to them I suppose for them to ask. When I look at it that way it makes me pause a moment… because you've asked. You promised me 50 years, and asked them in return. Ene otsoa, nire 50 urte dituzu.
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