I have never felt hatred, seen anger, touched lust. I thought the world was a blessed place. That was before I saw what was on the other side of the mirror.
My blade is dull against her voice. Perhaps I will sharpen it against her throat... next time.
We do not fight for ourselves; it is always for others. But it is also alongside those others, those who are fighting for us, that we fight.
Why did I think that I was the only one with a conscience? Why do I think that I do not have one now?
One moment I think I can, know I can, as long as he lets me. But then, I see what he was like before he was him, and I know I can't.
When. Take me to my end or let me fall. Just let me go.
What. I need answers from myself, not from you.