I like to think I was once a decent person, back when I was still a person. It's hard to determine now if I was then. I lived so long in the shadow of my lineage with the guilt, and the remorse, and the bitterness that... my perception of myself is not what it ought to be.

[Especially now that when he looks in the mirror, all he sees is an abomination: a man who, once, was so consumed with bitterness that he forgot who he was.]

How do you keep moving forward? I used to believe things could be better, and that with enough dedication to my work and to my people, I would be absolved of my sins -- maybe even of my affliction and the dreadful fate awaiting me. Now, I wonder if I was a fool for having such faith.