Today, I reminisced about you.
You, as the others masks, told this one to look at the inside. That there, would be found himself, would be found purpose... And so this oneself went, looked, in a reverie to the depths of his mind.
Amidst the mazes, this one asked the thorns that paved the ground on his front, the very same which desired to go deeper and deeper into his sole.
Even they have a purpose, why is that this one doesn't?
What is this self? Why have this one born? What is the true purpose behind this all?
To suffer the pain I can ensue unto thee, told the thorns to this one.
And what is your purpose, to inflict this one with pain?
Aye and to teach, through pain you shall learn, it said.
With not much effort, the thorns went in, deeper and deeper of this flesh, till it turned to be impossible to be taken out.
Words of insult and lies, of suposed love, sealed the injury and the thorns within to forever inflict pain and to not let forget, and so, to teach to not trust.
With it, the memoirs surfaced, memoirs of an old time, the yore of an infant. Many thorns, many lies, many masks...
And so, this one kept looking within himself, you told me there is where lies the answer. This one believes you to be not the same as they are, and because of that, the search must go on.