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“There once was this man who found himself talking to his son. He had often told the boy stories of heroes and villains, good and evil. He began by saying that all of us—even himself—had these two sides of ourselves fighting with each other, these two wolves. And these two wolves? They're always fighting. One was all that was pure in the world—the light, the hope, and the sanctuary. The other was all that was bad in the world—the dark, the despair, and the revenge. This same fight is going on inside of you, son... and inside of every other person on this earth. And this fight isn't just once; it's constant, happening every day." Her voice softened, and I could almost picture her sitting cross-legged on the floor, her expression thoughtful as she relayed the story. "What happens after that?" I asked hoarsely, my chest still tight but my mind began to quiet, drawn into her words despite myself. "The little boy in the story asks which wolf wins," she continued, her tone, a warmth so faint it was nearly imperceptible. "And his father looked at him and says, 'The one you feed.” — Sasha Harding