That’s the thing about stories. They’re more than words. They live inside of us. They make us who we are. And as long as someone believes that, there will always be magic.
Sometimes, you have to leave home. And you’ve been there for so long, you don’t know who or what you’ll be outside of it. But then you realize, every experience, every trial, every moment has shaped you. And you take that place with you no matter where you go next.
Every story comes to an end… but who gets to decide when that is? Or whose story it really is, anyway?
You can’t change things with the family you lost, so maybe, you should try it with the family you still have.[to Ivy]