Wheeling Gull Isle All this sand but only one grain changed me

But this was a time where Mal didn't want someone to say that it could have been worse -- it sounded too much like she was trying to compete with his own woes. And she didn't know all Mal had been through -- it wasn't what he wanted to hear at all, that she somehow had things worse. His own list was so long it was virtually serpentine. Sisters. Parents. Children. Sisters. A brother. Friends, some lost in ways that were immensely painful because it seemed so unreasonable. And much of it was still raw and fresh. He wasn't in the state to curb his expression, he frowned. If it was just a few, I could believe it. But given just how much it's been -- my life is loss. The list of names keeps growing. It's more than anyone should bear, so how could it be anything but some failing of mine? Or some doom I bring? It's too much. He ended fairly tersely.

Mal had realized he was monopolizing it, it was why he stopped, why he had virtually volunteered to go away. He didn't want to pour out his history. He wanted to be able to forget it -- better if he could fix it, but he knew that was impossible.. It tore at him, he shifted uneasily and started to turn to leave, Have a good day. Maybe the words rang slightly hollow, but he felt like he needed to get away. He'd just make things worse if he lingered. He'd go inflict his bad company on emptiness instead, unless she stopped him. He wouldn't risk losing control of his words. Not now. He didn't need to inflict that on Hua's pack. He couldn't be near people in the state he was in, none of them deserved it.