''I am telling you that it is futile. But I am also telling you that you have to try.''
She always thought of life and death as two opposing forces. He showed her differently. After all, there is a fine line between love and hate. Between determination and resignation. It all depends on the life you choose. And, of course, on them. On their choices to save you or to take you. There is no middle ground, of that she was sure. The two states were absolutes; there is no fighting it, but you can always try.
Prologue : Conflicting
Sheep : a word commonly used to describe people who blindly follow others through life, more civilised than their cloven-hoofed counterparts, if only barely.
Sheep need someone to guide them. The dog only controls, walking among them. The owner puts them in their places and watches them fulfil their aimless roles. Some sheep think of their owner as 'God', out of their desperate need to know that the tools of existence are in someone else's hands who has a greater responsibility and purpose, who watches over them so that they know they are never alone, even in their darkest, most empty moments.
I think it's more complicated than that. I was born into those beliefs so I was the obedient sheepdog, carrying out the task my master had handed me. There is always an opposite, a reverse; a shadow where there is light.
There are always two conflicting forces. There may be lesser ones trapped in the middle. These are the ones to suffer if the two forces were to ever come together; though sometimes... I know of one occasion.
Do you believe in fate? Would it be another of those forces, another sheepdog? I suppose there are too many factors in life -and death, they always go hand in hand. It comes down to you: your heart, mind, and soul, and what they believe in. I can show you what happened, but I can't promise that it will make sense to you or that you will believe in it.
The most important thing you'll need to understand is that no one can understand, least of all myself.