1 part Ongoing MatureThe world desperately needed form, structure, and tangible limits that could contain the primordial chaos threatening to overflow at any moment with this soulmate bullshit.
Like a jellyfish forced to develop an exoskeleton to survive on solid ground, you transformed your curse into art, your pain into livelihood. Your hands, calloused from constant work with needles, learned to destroy divine bonds with the same precision they create beauty. It was inevitable to succumb to the need for containment, to the visceral dread of remaining undefined, so you chose your own chains and forged your own prison with ink and needles.
And if Psyche wanted to curse you with the gift of destruction, well... you would make this curse your masterpiece.