Peddler of Dreams

Xerrakir is just like every other self-professed "good soul" that I've ever met.
 
Listen, don't get me wrong. Guy's got a good heart. I'm not gonna sit here and deny that. But I genuinely think he's gotta be either stupid, naïve, or both, cause there's no way he understands even a modicum of the way the real world works. I don't know if he listened to any of what I said during that cute little group therapy session, but you don't get a guy who's lived a life like mine to believe he's redeemable by saying that you were literally hand picked by a god to be removed from your own torment. What about those of us who don't get chosen? What of those of us sequestered to the dark corners of the world, shunned from warm hearths, ignored by generosity, forgotten by the masses? Sure, I deserve my lot in life. I did this shit to myself. I don't get to live any other way, and that's just how it is. But he's frankly a fucking fool to compare the two of us. The gods saw fit to offer him succor -- not me. We aren't the same, and we never will be.
 
I'm sure he means well. The few others who didn't immediately turn me away or call me "monster" did also. But there's a difference between growing up within violence and becoming it. Like those I've run into before, he seems set to convince me of a brighter future. The reality check will come soon enough. It'll suck to crush another soul, but sometimes the harshest lessons in life are the ones that come from pain.
 
Still, a part of me aches...