The world is full of them, strings.
Soulmates.
Thimbles.
And mine.
But mine cannot be woven to make clothing, or help you find someone to love.
No, mine hurt people.
Hurt me.
The reason why i can't remember, the reason why i don't want to.
They are used for violence, rampage, and chaos.
But also, for Clarity.
It may seem strange to you.
But despite everything, these strings...
I adore them.
They are now apart of me.
I must accept all parts of me.
Even those which I despise.
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