There's a point, right? I mean, there's a reason to keep going? A reason to bother with all of it? Any of it? A reason to continue, to take step after step, day after day? "It all gets better from here" and all that? Sometimes I wonder. Most times.
I was made and shaped and formed... And given unto man... The all-gifts... The all-temptation... Of this fledgling race... They tell me I was made to ruin him... With this box... Which I must not open... And this curiosity... Placed inside my soul... They shaped me to ruin man... Shaped me to open... This carved-bone box........ They shaped me to take the blame