The Abridged Cripple's Confession

Never breathing a moments unburdened breath, the resulting abomination of my existence seems a rather obvious conclusion. A fleeting moment of introspection might have avoided all this, but they endeavored to create me despite the corruption and inadequacy of their own being. Borne from them was the literal embodiment of irony. A creature unable to thrive but programmed to exist.

Comfort finally arrived in illusion and solitude. Abiding solely by the dictates of my fabricated universe, I was immune to their pollution. Of course, this fallacy could only suffice for so long. A fantasy absent the oxygen of reality, my suffocation was inevitable. Existence required my illusion's legitimacy, and I built its walls around us.

With profound sadness, I admit I can no longer distinguish the seams of this fallacious construction. A forgotten vestige of innocence seeks the thread that will unravel its fabric, yet my illusion confronts it with the advocacy of its own existence. You are caught within this battle, a casualty of their impossible struggle. I cannot resolve this contest, but somehow still pray the best parts of me find their way to you.[