It’s about the moment that I find myself in the most beautiful, lavish bedroom I’ve ever seen that I realize things are falling apart.
In hindsight, I suppose they have been for while but I’ve managed. I’ve kept my head above water, my legs barely treading. Now I find myself sinking, and sinking fast.
Does it even matter anymore? Does any of it even matter? Whatever I do, wherever I turn, I’m wrong. I thought I knew the difference; I thought there was good and evil, black and white. Yet I find myself suffocating in one big gray area, surrounded by reality and dreams, truth and lies.
Am I the girl who spent her childhood in the forest, growing up with her human father? Learning how to fish and playing with imaginary friends? Or am I the girl from the rebellion, bred to follow in her mother’s footsteps? Bred to carry her legacy, and the rebellion, on my back? Who is Ember Rose? I ask myself for the millionth time.
I don’t think anyone can answer that question now.