I've Lived Out West Some... I've Always

[no] Matter What A Waste One Has Made Of One's Life, It Is Ever Possible To Find Some Path To Redemption, However Partial.

She Always Carried A Book, Though, In Case She Needed To Read A Few Pages To Avoid Unwanted Conversation.

Ask Her What She Craved, And She'd Get A Little Frantic About Things Like Books, The Woods, Music. Plants And The Seasons. Also Freedom. Not Being Bought And Sold By Some Idiot Employer, Not Having The Moments Of Her Days Valued In Fractions Of A Dollar By Somebody Other Than Herself.

And Then She Thought That You Went On Living One Day After Another, And In Time You Were Somebody Else, Your Previous Self Only Like A Close Relative, A Sister Or Brother, With Whom You Shared A Past. But A Different Person, A Separate Life. Certainly Neither She Nor Inman Were The People They Had Been The Last Time They Were Together. And She Believed Maybe She Liked Them Both Better Now.

He Tried To Name Which Of The Deadly Seven Might Apply, And When He Failed He Decided To Append An Eighth, Regret.