To tell you the truth, I don't know if _this_ conversation was real or just an echo of an idea of a possible conversation between us. Either way, it goes like this with them every time. To the point that it _could_ indeed become a perceptible idea.

And maybe I was just trying to convince myself that I didn't care. Please bury me the day I really stop caring about things, for that would mean I'm not alive anymore.
Angels don't bargain