I spent a lot of time wondering what was wrong with me. Can it be narrowed down to one thing? One fatal flaw to define this tragic hero? My downfall, attributed to one thing?
Apathy.

The lack of emotion, the lack of caring about anything.
In some way it stems from this innate feeling inside of me that I was robbed of something. I don’t know what.
Myself.

What am I but a tapestry; a collection of different people stitched together to make some chimera that just barely resembles something human.
A fabric with no identity of it’s own.
Robbed.

My individuality, stolen. By what? By who?
M_E.

Who is driven by such primal fear of being known?
Me.

Who refuses to know themselves?
M.E.

You cobbled something together to replace yourself.
You-- hated that person so much you tore them apart and scattered their pieces to wind.

YOU aren’t even happy with what you made.
A vile creature. Freak.

All you ever want is perfect, and yet you never are.
No one wanted to know you anyway.

Become someone else instead.