Thinking that to find his way a point of orientation would be best, Morr decided to return to the library, perhaps someone he found on the way, if he found said way there, would be able to direct him to where he was- needed.<br/><br/>Needed. Perhaps, he was yet overestimating his own worth? All that, the current situation, should have been a fine distraction, if he had been able to concentrate.<br/><br/>His reaction to- to her had been extreme, to say the least, and he feared it was barely even fading now, this hate that he felt for himself whenever he had to realize that he- he was barely even human. His purpose was to protect the innocent, stand for those that cannot stand for themselves, always stand tall against any evil that may befall any undeserving of it.<br/><br/>He was alive, thus the purpose was his life, but he could not believe in it any longer, only that ever present apathy, now coupled with an unwavering self-hate. However, if he followed his purpose truly then someone who could not believe in that purpose could not follow the purpose.<br/><br/>His purpose was untrue, thus was his life. He had to realize: The purpose, his life, would see him as a mistake. He was a mistake that should not be. A mistake that should have never occurred, a paradox whose existence was unjustified!<br/>Worse even, if he was such a mistake, then mere existence bore the danger of perpetrating this mistake, of perpetrating that taint of being such a mistake.<br/><br/>And he could infect anyone with this taint by his mere presence...<br/><br/>He was a monster. An abomination.