It wasn’t until I looked into his heart I realised what it meant to be lost. The mess I made was neatly packed in pretty boxes with a bow, while his was scattered and burnt all over the place. My deamons were out to havoc just like his, but I never realised the chaos I lived in till he showed me his own.
The voices hurt, but I was used to it and I didn’t know the comfort I found despite the shit, then it was gone. Now I really know what my own chaos means.