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We all had our reasons to be there. As different and as personal as they were, none of them were wrong. Everybody had that one or two things that they needed to learn. Some did learn, some didn't. Some were seeking answers to questions that shouldn't be asked, or at least are probably best left unknown, cast aside to a dark recess of thought. Such as: "What don't you see in me that you see in her?" or, "If I had met you before him, do you think we would have had a chance?". Some were seeking solice in their lives. Trying to get closure on things past. Making their best efforts to move on, to put things behind them and to see what the world still has instore for them. Some had things to discover about themselves on their own Yellow Brick Road. Others were seeking forgiveness, like me. Confessing much more that we needed to, in a futile attempt to clear our stained consciences. Each with his or her own reason, none wrong, nor right. But a reason nonetheless.
When they arrived, they didn't nessisarily know why they were there. All that they did know was that somehow they came to be at this place, and could only speculate as to why they were brought. But that's the thing isn't it? No one really knows. It took time for their reasons to be made known, if they weren't already. Some denied, others accepted. In the end, all knew why they were there, wether they liked it or not. They had no choice but to face the things that had brought them together, only then would they be able to leave the limbo that they were in.
Some believed that they were in Hell, but they were still very much alive, at least in body. Others believed that they were just simply victims of misfortune, that they had been in the wrong place at the wrong moment. The truth is, they were in someplace much different than Hell, no worse, no better, but still very different. They had made their beds, now they were to lay in them. Not as a punishment, but to learn. To maybe get the answers, solice or forgiveness that they so dearly sought after.
Again, some accepted, some did not. But no body had any choice. The covers were pulled back.
They were progressing relativly quickly. A few lagged behind, a few in grief, a few more in utter frustrating confusion. Soon enough though they would progress at their own pace. Everyone moved at different speeds, faster not meaning better, slower not meaning worse. Just different.
This is an incredibly personalised place, tailored to each client.
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